


Not Today

by Drago



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, HIV/AIDS, Ian isn't a dick, M/M, Mickey accidentally does something with his life, Mickey finally deals with the shit he went through, Mickey makes friends, Suicide Attempt, Supportive Mandy, at least for Gallavich, depressed mickey, slow burn i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drago/pseuds/Drago
Summary: Mexico is everything Mickey thought it would be, but he realizes it's not for him. So he goes back. Not to Ian, this chapter of his life is closed.I saw the fucking ocean, and it meant nothing to me because you weren’t there. I wanted it to be enough, I tried so fucking hard to be happy. But it was meaningless, because you weren’t there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lo and behold, I did not abandon this fandom. But I needed a break. I haven't seen S8, I'm done with their bullshit. And some of Cameron's tweets rubbed me the wrong way, mainly his complete lack of understanding why we want Mickey back... I needed a break. That, and I'm into way too many fandoms. But Mickey still deserves better, to here I am.

It takes Mickey two weeks to decide that he is going to turn himself in. He’s been obviously in denial, thinking Ian would come with him, thinking he could make it in Mexico. But ever since he crossed the border he felt like it was a mistake. So much planning, so much fear and for what? For Ian to leave him again, for everything to feel so absolutely hopeless. He’s felt like this before, when he was in prison, but he thought it would pass. After all, it’s impossible to be happy in prison. Turns out it’s also impossible to be happy outside of it.  
Mexico is warm, sunny, and he finally sees his first beach and feels nothing. It’s yellow and blue, the water is too salty, and his eyes hurt when he opens them too soon after diving. It’s exactly what he imagined, maybe that’s why his reaction is so lackluster.  
He refuses to spend Ian’s money, so he sleeps in his car. It’s not like he is going any further, after two weeks he turns around and starts driving back. Fifty miles before the border he meets Aidan, and for the first time in his life luck seems to be on his side. They fuck in the fanciest hotel room Mickey’s ever seen, he didn’t even know Mexico had any hotels like that. Too good to be real, too good for him. The last hurrah before he rots in jail.  
Aidan is chatty, even more so than Ian, and Mick quickly learns that the other man is a lawyer from Chicago. Then he learns that Aidan actually recognized him, and for a second he thinks that he won’t even have to turn himself in, because the older man will do it for him. It shouldn’t make much of a difference, but if another person he’s slept with stabs him in the back, he might not survive it, even if he doesn’t feel anything for the guy. Enough is enough.  
Aidan is different, though, and he has a plan. He whispers it into Mickey’s ear while they fuck slowly, bodies sticky with perspiration despite the AC. Mickey has nothing to lose, so he lets Aidan stuff him into the trunk, because no one is going to check the white lawyer’s trunk, even in Mexico. He doesn’t really believe that anything will come out of it, but being outside without constant fear of being arrested has to be better than being in prison, so he waits two more months before almost everything is ready.  
“Look, they based everything on your past offenses and Sammy’s testimony, it’s pretty much against the law. You can’t put someone in jail just because you _think_ they are a bad person.”  
“Yeah, well, Sammy’s testimony...”  
“Don’t worry about it, I will maul this bitch if I have to, she is going to be singing a much different tune soon.”  
“Right. What about my prison break?”  
“You served some time, so we will use that, I can assure you that the worst you will get is the ankle monitor,” Aidan brushes off Mickey’s concern before adding, “There is one more thing, though. You to see a psychiatrist.”  
“What for? I’m not crazy.”  
“It’s not about being crazy, I just need them to confirm my suspicions.”  
“What..?”  
“Don’t worry about it.”  
Of course Mickey worries, he has no control over anything, he isn’t even paying Aidan for his work because the older man doesn’t want his – technically Ian’s, money. He is doing it pro bono because he has a soft spot for lost causes and likes being challenged, or so he says. Mickey doesn’t pretend to understand, there isn’t much you can get for free in his world. Maybe a fist in the face, that’s usually cheap.  
He doesn’t want to trust Aidan, he doesn’t want to trust anyone ever again, but it’s really difficult when there is someone taking care of him. It hasn’t happened in such a long time that he hardly remembers what’s it like. His mom used to do it before she became a crack whore, but that was ages ago, when he was still a kid. He feels old when he thinks about it.  
When he finally steps inside the police station, he almost feels relieved. He is immediately sent to prison, and in a way it feels right. This is what he knows and understands, kindness is a foreign concept.  
Aidan is ruthlessly efficient in court which makes Mickey realize that even with Ian’s money, he still wouldn’t be able to afford him. For a while, he entertains the thought that he is paying with his ass, but he is not that good. If he had a lawyer like that before, he definitely wouldn’t have spent a year in prison, wouldn’t have to escape. But back then no one cared. Aidan paints a completely different portrait of him in front of a judge than he is used to seeing. Maybe it’s a big, fat lie, but in a way, Mickey can see himself in this person.  
The prosecutor wants to add seven more years to his sentence, but Aidan bulldozers right through him, reminding everyone that Mick escaped to seek help, which he couldn’t get behind the bars. That’s definitely a lie, he didn’t want help, he just wanted Ian, but he bites his lips and does his best to look innocent.  
There is only one witness, but he isn’t there to see Sammy again because he gets, quite conveniently, sick. During the same hearing the psychiatrist he visited gives her opinion, but Aidan refuses to tell him what she said. Whatever it was, it works, and seven months after he turned himself in, he walks out as a free man. The ankle monitor should be a bit of an inconvenience, he can’t leave the city, but he already knows that there is nothing out there for him anyway.  
Aidan finds him a small flat almost outside of the Southside. Then he finds him a job. It’s a cashier job at a local supermarket, but he doesn’t have much of a legal experience, and it pays enough – Mickey suspects it’s because Aidan knows the owner. But he is not going to complain, he wouldn’t be able to get a job on his own, not when his faced was plastered all over the news not once, but twice, since Chicagoan news stations were very interested in the reopened case.  
He works weekdays only, probably Aidan’s doing again, either from six to two pm, or from two to ten pm. It takes him a while to get used to waking up this early, and the job is boring as fuck, but he makes money. And he doesn’t have to hide from the world. Even though he still feels uncomfortable around the police, he doesn’t have to run away when he sees them, and that’s something he’s never experienced before. Even as a kid, he was taught not to trust the police, keep mum if they asked questions or simply speedwalk somewhere safe. Safe always meant a place without any police officers, the memory almost makes him smile. It could be a crackhouse, but it was still considered safe. He doesn’t miss it, but his life doesn’t feel like his own. Not that he is doing a whole lot of living. Aidan comes over to fuck him every now and then, but Mickey can already tell it’s not going to last.  
He is sure that his whole family knows that he is out, but he doesn’t want to contact them. They don’t need him, and he doesn’t have their numbers anyway. He would have to go to his old house and, frankly speaking, it’s the last thing he wants. He doesn’t want to see the old neighborhood ever again. He could run into someone he doesn’t want to see. Into Ian, though he doubts that the redhead’s perfect new life is in the Southside.  
Aidan buys him a phone, which is a waste of money since he doesn’t have anyone to call. He doesn’t have to call the older man, because Aidan always knows where to find him in the evening, and if there is an emergency then… It really doesn’t matter, it’s not like he will call the ambulance on his own. If anything, having a phone makes him feel things that a simple object shouldn’t make him feel. Before the prison and Mexico, he could go to a bar and have a drink or two, but now sitting surrounded by people he doesn’t know seems… terrifying. Mickey Milkovich is afraid of strangers. No, Mickey Milkovich is afraid they will try talking to him, and he has nothing to say. Nothing at all. No one expects him to talk much at work, and that’s fine, it makes his work easier.  
Illegal activities were always the most thrilling part of his life, and now that they are gone, his life is dull. Maybe this is how most people feel about their lives, he wouldn’t know. He never had any real friends, just his family and Ian. And now there is no family, and definitely no Ian. Living alone is a weird experience. It makes him feel like a real, responsible adult, but he isn’t sure he likes this feeling. 

Mickey knows how to cook, but he buys prepackaged foods because cooking requires too much effort. He only cooks when Aidan comes around, it’s actually fun to cook for someone and watch them eat it, _enjoy_ it. This, however, happens two or three times a week. He has the employee’s discount, so he stocks up before leaving work, and that’s perfect. It means he doesn’t have to leave the house again.  
He doesn’t do much in general. He has a new laptop and a TV because Aidan wanted him to have something of his own. He doesn’t use them a lot. Often, they just sit there unused, while he stares at a wall, sipping on a lukewarm beer. Life used to be more exciting when he was a criminal, but deep down he always knew that it would end one day. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be like Terry. Or even like his brothers, who weren’t as bad as their father, but they didn’t overthink the things they had to do to appease Terry. Mickey wouldn’t call it guilty conscience, but some things just didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t imagine himself doing it for the rest of his life, constantly in and out of prison. Not that he ever imagined his future to be bright. A dead-end job, like the one he has now, was always the peak of his envisioned career. Seems like he has a gift for seeing the future, maybe he should make a career out of it. It wouldn’t be the weirdest shit he sold people.  
But to do that, he would have to make some effort, and he just doesn’t feel like it. His job is mind-numbingly boring, it makes him sleepy and doesn’t inspire him to enjoy his life after his shift ends. Mickey isn’t delusional, he knows he doesn’t really have a life outside of work. He probably should call Mandy or his brothers, but they didn’t seem overly concerned with his incarceration, never visited him, never called, so maybe it’s time to give up on family ties. He is better off alone anyway.  
Aidan thinks he is clever, and maybe he is in the courtroom, but Mickey has already seen through the older man’s bullshit. They are slowly, but surely, drifting apart because Mickey is no longer providing the thrill that he did before, when he was a wanted man. Aidan was only interested in him because his case was challenging. Now he took interest in another partner from his firm. He didn’t say anything about it, but Mickey isn’t dumb. He sees things. He also knows that Aidan feels guilty and wants to stay friends with him. Which is fine, he never really believed that someone like Aidan, or anyone else, would want to spend their whole life with him. He is not going to mention it, he will wait until the older man is ready to tell him. Not out of kindness, but because it’s the only human contact he has after work. Even if it’s not every day.  
Some nights, when it gets very late, or maybe really early, he almost considers going to a gay bar, finding someone to warm his bed for a night. But Mickey is not like that, he’s never been one for loud gay clubs with twinks strutting around in skimpy outfits, trolling for dick. He is, finally, comfortable with his sexuality, but he just isn’t comfortable with people. It was always Ian’s scene, not his. Even Iggy – due to sheer idiocy, was better at this. He still considers it, because it’s better than staring at walls or a ceiling, and thinking about his messed up life when he can’t fall asleep. It makes no sense to him how he can be so tired, yet still unable to sleep. He tries googling it, he googles a lot of random, stupid stuff at three in the morning, but he doesn’t like what he finds, so he chooses to ignore it.  
At work, he thinks about drugs. He doesn’t really _want_ or _like_ drugs, but they would be an easy fix. A bit of molly would make his shift, people around him, more bearable. He isn’t quite sure what stops him from buying some. Maybe it’s because he has a new life now. It’s not perfect or fun, but it seems that everyone else moved on from the trash, Southside life, so he can make some effort too. No one can see him, but he doesn’t need anyone to tell him when he fucks up. His own fucking brain will tell him, will repeat it over and over again until it really sinks in how much he screwed up. He wishes he could switch his brain off. 

He is staring at dumbbells which are lying in the corner of his tiny living room when it occurs to him. He was going to work out, he got pretty jacked in prison, at least as much as he can get with his body type, and he doesn’t want it to go to waste. But working out is difficult. There are days when he diligently exercises two hours a day, and then there are days when he can’t get up from wherever his legs decided to give up. Sometimes it’s a couch or a bed, but sometimes it’s a cold floor next to the fridge. It gets really cold, but he stays there for hours because moving is too much effort. That’s not the point, though. The point is – there is a way to switch his brain off. It’s an easy, hassle-free, affordable option for people like him.  
The mere thought makes him feel elevated, and for a few days he almost enjoys work and customers. He even smiles when a bumbly teenager tries to hit on him. Mickey isn’t the best at noticing things like that, but she makes it really obvious. He would find it quite nice if he wasn’t gay. It lasts until Friday. During the evening shift he spots bright red hair in the vegetable section, and he just _knows_. A curly-haired guy accompanies Ian, Mickey is pretty sure that it’s his ex’s boyfriend. They look happy, which is good. Mickey wants Ian happy. But he also doesn’t want Ian anywhere close to him. They are done, he is done.  
He takes a short bathroom break. Thankfully, the bathroom is completely empty, so he can breathe as loud as he wants to. Which is really fucking loud and difficult. Fucking Ian ruining his equilibrium again.

***

Aidan really likes Mickey. The younger man is great, even if he doesn’t seem to see it. But they’re not compatible, at least not in the way a couple is supposed to be. It’s great when they have sex or hang out, but he can’t imagine getting married to Mick, having kids with him, and that’s a real deal-breaker. Lucas, on the other hand, would look amazing in a white suit. But Aidan doesn’t know how to deliver the news to Mickey, he doesn’t want to destroy their friendship. But at this point fucking him feels too much like using him, and it’s just immoral, even for a lawyer. You don’t use your friends. So he decides to man up, buys a bottle of whiskey and goes to Mick’s flat before he chickens out. It’s Friday night, but he doesn’t call in advance because the younger man never goes out. It’s another thing they need to discuss, but his mom always told him to take one step at a time.  
He spends five minutes knocking, thinking that his friend might be showering. He has the keys, but decides to call first, just to be polite. But the other man still doesn’t answer, so he quickly unlocks the door. He’s brought pizza with him, so he sets all of his bags on a coffee table before he goes looking for Mick. He almost misses him, because it’s so dark in the bedroom. Mickey is lying on a floor, next to the bed, with his eyes closed. He looks asleep, and he is always so pale that someone else would probably be fooled. But Aidan knows better, he doesn’t need to see the half empty bottle of vodka, or the two empty bottles of pills, which he will find later, when he comes back to pick up some clothes. No, he doesn’t need to see any of this to pull out a phone and call 911, hands steady while his heart is racing. Mickey is breathing, but his pulse is weak. He is so still, Aidan hass never seen him so still before. He should’ve paid more attention to what the psychiatrist evaluating the younger man said.  
He follows the ambulance in his car and somehow manages not to hit anything. He is already making a list of things he needs to do. He will have to arrange his schedule around Mickey, the boy can’t be alone, but he will need help. He is a bloody lawyer, he works a lot, and Mick’s shifts usually don’t overlap with his. It doesn’t even cross his mind that his friend might not pull through.  
The doctor doesn’t want to tell him anything since he isn’t related to Mickey, but he isn’t a lawyer for nothing, and soon enough he’s got all the information he needs. It’s not that bad, he got there just in time. The hospital should transfer Mick to the psychiatric ward, but Aidan makes sure it doesn’t happen. He might have not foreseen this, but he knows that being in a psychiatric ward will only make things worse. He hopes he isn’t making a huge mistake.  
Despite the hour, Mandy sounds wide awake and confident when she answers the phone.  
“Hi, I’m Aidan Parker, and I’m calling to tell you that your brother, Mickey, tried to commit suicide,” he is not going to apologize for calling late, this is more important than Mandy’s beauty sleep.  
“Is that a fucking joke?”  
“I’m afraid not.”  
They schedule to meet the next day, but Aidan refuses to tell her where Mick is staying. He has to make sure that she is the best choice of all other siblings.  
Mandy’s hair is blonde, but he can see the dark roots, and there is the uncanny resemblance between her and her brother. They could be twins, were they born the same year. He thinks, of course, that Mickey is much prettier, but that might be because he is gay.  
She looks shocked and small when he gives her the details, still doesn’t believe her brother would do something like that. She really doesn’t know him all that well, or maybe he changed so much that she can’t recognize him anymore.  
It doesn’t matter, all she has to do is keep an eye on him, and since her schedule is very flexible, they manage to hammer out a decent plan to keep Mick alive. Aidan wants to ask why no one visited Mickey, why no one made any effort to help him, but he might not like the answers he gets, so he chooses silence.  
“Don’t tell anyone about it. He doesn’t want anyone to know where he lives, or what he does, I’m asking for your help because you’re the only person who was somewhat close to him and seems reliable.”  
“But...”  
“No one can know. Especially not Ian.”  
He thinks he hears a small gasp from Mandy, and she does look surprised. But then something changes, her face turns firm when she promises, “Don’t worry about it. I’m not telling him shit about my brother.”  
Maybe Mandy changed as well, Aidan hopes she did, for her brother’s sake.  
When he tells Mickey about the new arrangement, he expects him to be furious. But Mick stares at him blankly before nodding. The drive to his flat is tense, but Aidan suspects it’s his own fault. In a way, he feels like he betrayed the other man, who is so high on medication that he probably can’t even properly think.  
Earlier that week he removed every bottle of alcohol from the flat, replaced sharp knives with blunt ones, emptied the medicine cabinet. Mickey doesn’t notice, because he goes straight to his room and promptly falls asleep, face almost completely hidden in a pillow. Aidan spends the rest of the night watching him, making sure he is still breathing.  
He can admit that he has a hero complex, and now he knows what real heroes must feel when they fail to protect someone they really wanted to save. Mickey is so… He carries himself with so much confidence and bravado that he fooled Aidan, made him think that nothing can really break him. The lawyer forgot that one’s own brain can do so much more damage than other people could ever manage.

Mandy hasn’t thought about Mickey in a long time. Out of sight, out of mind, especially since she couldn’t mention him to Ian, who always got a weird look on his face, when someone said something that sounded even remotely similar to her brother’s name. She doesn’t understand how Aidan – who is way too good for Mick, so it’s not a surprise that he already has another guy, managed to get her brother out of prison. It’s really impressive, but she is not going to tell him that. He doesn’t look like someone who needs to have his ego stroked.  
Mickey both is, and is not, the way she expected him to be. He still has some gross habits, but his flat is almost spotless. He drinks too much like he always did, but he doesn’t go out, not at all. Then there is the fact that he tried to kill himself. At first, Mandy didn’t think it was true. She thought that Aidan was panicking, maybe Mickey took too much molly and washed it down with too much whiskey, but when she straight up asked Mick, he didn’t respond, just got this empty look in his eyes. He didn’t try to deny it.  
The first time she comes over, she braces herself for the sad, emotional mess, but her brother doesn’t do anything. That’s the keyword. He doesn’t do _anything_. Sometimes, she catches him browsing the internet or listening to some music, but that’s all he does. It’s not what most people describe when they talk about depression, and it scares her even more. Mickey looks completely fine, and it makes Mandy think that one day he is going to quietly slice his arms open while one of them doesn’t pay attention for a second. There will be no warning.  
They don’t really talk. She tries to apologize, once, for not coming to see him, not calling, but he just shrugs her off. She feels guilty now. Guilty for assuming that Mick would be just like their father, completely fine with being alone. She always dotted on Ian, and it never crossed her mind that Mickey could be the vulnerable one. It’s easy with Ian, he is so open about his problems, he seeks attention. Her brother is like a fucking bird that hides the injury before finding a quiet place in which it can die. It’s a pretty poetic thing to say for a Milkovich, but Mandy isn’t a stupid men thinks she is.  
When Aidan asks about her work, she looks him in the eye and says she is an escort. They both know that she means a prostitute, but the lawyer doesn’t look scandalized. She hoped he would, he makes her feel uneasy with how confident he is. But he he has seen things. He might not have experienced them, but he’s definitely seen some nasty shit, and Mandy suspects they can’t really shock him anymore. Aidan doesn’t dwell on things. Instead, he finds solutions.  
“I don’t want to offend you,” he says one day, just as she is leaving, “but I think you can do better. I have a friend who is looking for an assistant. Here is his card, send him your resume. I told him about you, but it’s up to you to get the job. If you want.”  
“He a lawyer?”  
“Yes, but he has his own office, he doesn’t work with me.”  
“Are you going through all Milkoviches, helping them get their shit together?”  
The polite smile slips off Aidan’s face when he says, “I didn’t exactly help Mick, did I?”  
Mandy winces at her own insensitivity and decides that she will apply. If she doesn’t get it, which she won’t, at least she will be able to say that she tried before she goes back to sucking dicks and forgets about it.  
Two weeks later she gets the job without having to bend over for anyone. Her new boss is either gay or asexual because his eyes don’t stray from her face, not even once, during the interview. The pay is lower than what she makes as an escort, but it’s something she can actually put in her CV. It’s a respectable job with health benefits, which takes her so far away from the Southside, that she might be on another planet already. And she likes it. She likes being appreciated for something else than her body. Maybe it’s because Aidan put in a good word for her, but she doubts it. They are fucking lawyers, they can’t hire charity cases just because they pity them.  
Mandy will make them proud. She will work hard, show them that she is more than a sexy body. Show herself that she is more than that. She was always the one to motivate other people, mainly Lip, believing that they could achieve something. Maybe a little nudge from Aidan was her chance. The only downside is that it would make taking care of Mickey much more difficult than it already is.


	2. Chapter 2

Things can get confusing in Ian’s head even when his medication is working. It can’t fix everything, and it can’t change the weird things that are just him. He is almost 100% sure he didn’t imagine things when he saw Mickey at the supermarket. It was only a second, Trevor distracted him and then Mick was gone, but he _was there_. So Ian came back the next day, hoping to see him again with no luck. He returned two days later, and watched Mickey restock the shelves. On his way to the store he was sure he will talk to his ex, given the chance. But as he stood there, watching Mick mechanically fill the shelves with cans of soup, shame and fear overtook him. He reasoned with himself – approaching the older boy at work would be unfair. Still, a small voice at the back of his head whispered ‘coward’ as he left the store and drove back home.   
He googled Mickey, digging out everything he could find about the case that apparently has been reopened while he was… He isn’t sure what he was doing. Partying? Working? Anything, but thinking about Mick. Mandy didn’t mention anything, then again their friendship wasn’t as strong as it used to be. Are they even best friends anymore? Probably not.  
Some time after the supermarket incident, Mandy suddenly switched jobs. Ian always thought that his friend was smart, but he still found it a bit suspicious that a lawyer would hire Mandy as his assistant. It wasn’t the same guy who defended Mick, but as far as he knows – all lawyers in the city are somehow related. She wouldn’t tell him, though, she would smile and say that she got lucky, never mentioning anyone helping her.  
He couldn’t just ask her for Mick’s address. Even if she knew it, he had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t tell him. At first, isn’t even sure she knows the address since she never mentions her brother, but one day he finds some a schedule pinned to her fridge. To be exact, it’s Trevor who notices it first. Ian knows that Mandy doesn’t like his… boyfriend, but she still lets him come over. Ian has no idea why, maybe she’d rather have both of them, than no Ian at all? Sometimes it’s hard to ditch Trevor, who wants to know everything, be a part of everything. It was cute, at first, then it became annoying, but Ian has no idea how to be single.   
“What’s the schedule for?” Trevor asks, and Ian swears Mandy sneaks a look at him before answering, “It’s for a friend, don’t worry about it.”  
Which, of course, makes both of them curious. On the way back Trevor manages five minutes of silence before he starts again, “It looked like a suicide watch.”  
“A what?”  
“The schedule. You do that when someone is suicidal, have people watch over them. The initials on her schedule stay the same, but the time when they are supposed to be available changes. I think the person they are watching over must be working shifts. Does she know anyone who tried to kill themselves?”  
“I… I don’t know,” Ian concentrates on driving while Trevor continues to worry. His boyfriend might not be the best match for him, but he really cares about others. It’s probably Ian who is the problem anyway.  
Mickey is not suicidal. Ian’s seen him sad, but not sad enough to try and kill himself. He knows depression, he experienced it before. When he is depressed all he does is cry and sleep, but Mick is working like a normal human being. So it’s obviously not his ex. 

He has Monday off, and he doesn’t want to remember that Mandy’s schedule said that _the person_ finishes work at 2, then there is a one hour window before anyone comes to see them, but he does. So Ian doesn’t believe it’s Mick, but something compels him to wait next to the supermarket. Few minutes after two he sees Mickey leave the building, and he follows the older man like a creep. It still could be just a coincidence because it makes no fucking sense. He follows his ex, finds out where he lives, then waits almost an hour just to watch Mandy arrive.  
It has to be something else, maybe Mickey has a drug problem. It wouldn’t be unexpected at all.   
He should just leave it be, if only because he was supposed to move on, forget about his ex, who is no good for him. At least that’s what Fiona and Trevor say. Not Carl or Debbie, but they’re too young to understand everything. As for Lip… He never really asked, his older brother is a mess. They all thought Lip would get better because of the new girl, but she left not really giving any explanation. Maybe they should’ve anticipated it, after all the Gallaghers are a lot to handle.   
It takes some time to figure out the flat number, but Ian has no idea what he is going to do with this knowledge. He tries not to be impulsive. Something tells him to just march in there and… He doesn’t know what. Or why. No, this one is a lie. He knows why. It’s because Mickey will always take him, always open the door for him, spread his legs open and moan softly. Ian stiffens in his pants at the memory of Mick’s round ass. When he jerks off to it, it doesn’t feel as satisfying as it used to. He uses his memories of the sex they used to have pretty often, sometimes it’s hard to come with a dildo up his ass, so he thinks about Mickey’s tight hole around his dick. He doesn’t need more.  
He ends up not doing anything for two weeks. It kills him. Every day he doesn’t see Mickey kills him. Ian really thought he was over the older man, but those two weeks prove how wrong he was. He spends every waking hour, minute even, thinking about his ex. His Mickey.   
_MickeyMickeyMickMickMick_  
If Trevor notices, he doesn’t mention it. Then again, the other boy can be pretty self-centered when it comes to their relationship. There is still so much Ian doesn’t understand, because his boyfriend won’t tell him. He just cries or gets angry when Ian wants to talk about something that Trevor finds too personal, but they are a couple, it’s supposed to be personal.  
He makes plans with Mandy and insists on coming over again, making up excuses as to why he doesn’t want to go out. He tells her he is feeling a bit down and could use his best friend’s company. He knows that she will assume it’s his bipolar acting up, but he is not above using it to get what he wants. And what he wants is a brand new schedule pinned to Mandy’s fridge. He snaps a photo of it while his friend is busy with the potatoes. And then, on Thursday morning, he knocks on Mickey’s door. His palms are sweaty when he rubs them together. He is nervous, there is no hiding it.  
Mick is… He is exceptionally pale and there are dark circles under his eyes, but he looks no different than Ian remembers him. His full, pink lips are dry and slightly cracked, Ian wants to lick them.   
Mickey sounds tired when he says, “What do you want?”   
“Can I come in?” Ian asks because he doesn’t know how to answer the question. He has a feeling that telling the other man that he misses him so much he can’t breathe won’t work. But Mickey shakes his head and keeps the door only slightly open, not giving him enough space to enter.  
“What do you want?” he repeats.  
“You’re not going to ask how I found you?”  
“Mandy gave you my address, it doesn’t matter.”  
“Right, of course. Let me in, we need to talk.”  
Mickey snorts, “Do we? I think you’ve said enough. It’s hard for you, you love me, it’s not you anymore, I get it.”  
“I’m here now!”  
“Too late, I don’t need you anymore.”  
Mickey starts closing the door, so Ian blurts out, “Did you try to kill yourself? Is it true?”  
The other man freezes, and his eyes look dead when he says, “No, I didn’t.”  
Ian knows he is lying, it hurts more than anything else he’s ever felt. “Is it because of me?”  
Despite saying he didn’t do it, Mick spits out, “Not everything is about you. Fuck off, Gallagher.” Then he closes the door before Ian can think about pushing his shoe inside the flat. With just few words, Mickey punched the breath out of his lungs. It takes him a good few minutes to take control over his breathing again, and only then he realizes that he just had a small panic attack.   
He feels numb when he gets home. By the evening, there are five missed calls from Trevor, but he ignores them all. He also ignores Fiona when she calls them for dinner. He isn’t hungry, he isn’t anything. For a second he worries that Fiona was right, maybe it is Mickey who makes his bipolar act up, but he quickly scolds himself for even considering it. It’s not the disorder, he is upset because someone, who once was very close to him, tried to kill himself. It’s only natural to be upset, he is not heartless. At least not as heartless as Mick probably thinks he is.   
Meeting Mickey again, after he escaped prison, made him realize that the life he built for himself was a lie. Well, not so much a lie, as a temporary solution to a bigger problem. His job was making him happy, but he didn’t believe in work being the center of one’s life. He though he was happy with Trevor, despite everything, he _wanted_ to be happy. But then his ex came back, and Ian realized Trevor never made him feel the way Mick did. He couldn’t run away from his life, though. That’s what he thought then, and when Monica died, it only strengthened the conviction that he did the right thing, he couldn’t leave his family to deal with it alone. He just didn’t realize that it meant leaving Mickey completely alone. Somehow, he never really thought about it. It never crossed his mind that the older boy was completely alone. Svetlana only wanted him for the citizenship, his brothers were brought up to believe that everyone has to fend for themselves if they want to survive, and Ian doesn’t know what’s Mandy’s excuse, but he is sure there is one considering she didn’t even call Mick in prison. The older boy was so alone, that even after being released from prison, dying felt like a better option. Ian’s head can be a dark, obscure place, but he never really considered suicide. It could be because of Monica, maybe for once she was a bit useful.  
He needs to talk to someone about it, even though it’s not his place to tell anyone. For a second, he considers telling Fiona, but even without talking to her, he knows what she would say. She would tell him it’s not his fault, that Mickey made his own bed, but… The older boy was there for him while he was depressed, manic, cheating and stealing babies, and Ian always assumed Mick was too strong to get trapped by his own mind. But it’s not like anyone has a choice, the depression doesn’t knock on your door and politely ask if you will let it in. No one would.  
In the end, he talks to Lip, who looks somewhat sober. He is sober, but the amount of alcohol he’s been recently consuming makes him seem drunk, even when he didn’t have a drop of it. His brother is quiet when he tells him everything he knows. He ends it with, “But he goes to work every day, his eyes weren’t red when I saw him. He looked alright, fresh. I don’t get it, I can’t get up and cry myself to sleep when I’m depressed.”  
“First of all, you are bipolar, so it has to be different from depression, yeah? Besides, depression isn’t some one-size-fits-all deal. If it were, it wouldn’t be so lethal since everyone would be able to tell when someone is sick,” Ian sometimes forgets that his brother is actually smart. “I wouldn’t have guessed that Mickey Milkovich could be depressed, but it makes sense.”  
“How on earth does it make sense?”  
“Come on, Ian, don’t be obtuse. Who wouldn’t, with the life he’s had? I don’t know everything, and I don’t wanna, but damn. I’m not his biggest fan, but death isn’t always the worst choice.”  
“Are you… alright?”  
“Me? I’m just fine.”

Ian doesn’t believe that Mickey doesn’t want to see him. He knows the other man, all he needs is a small push, that’s what he always needed. With kissing, coming out… He steals Mick’s number from Mandy’s phone, promising himself that it’s the last time he will use his friend like that. The thing that he has with her brother should stay between the two of them. He already involved her too much, Mick thinks that Mandy gave him the information on purpose, trying to get them together again, while she has no idea that Ian went behind her back.  
He visits Mickey when he knows Mandy’s at work, and when the older boy opens the door he shoves him inside, not giving him a chance to react. He wants to snoop around, check every room to see what Mick has brought into his new life, but he doubts he will get to see anything outside of the small living room which is connected to the kitchen. It’s sparsely furnished and knowing the older boy, other rooms are the same.   
What Ian really wants to do is go to the bathroom and check the cabinets there, find the evidence of Mick’s depression. Maybe it’s just an intricate plan to make him feel guilty, maybe there was no suicide attempt. Maybe the emptiness he sees in Mickey’s eyes is caused by the yellow lights that make everything look sunken.  
“We should… talk,” he says awkwardly as he sits down on a gray couch. It’s surprisingly comfortable and doesn’t look like something the other man would choose himself.   
“You only want to talk when it suits you,” Mick mutters almost too quietly for him to hear.  
“That’s not true, I always...”  
“Only when you wanted to. Never when I had something to say,” this time, it’s a bit louder, but Mickey still isn’t looking at him. He doesn’t sit on a couch either, even though it’s the only thing available.   
“You never had anything to say!”  
Mickey lets out a frustrated sigh, but doesn’t elaborate. After few minutes it becomes obvious that he is not going to say anything at all, so Ian tries again.  
“I’ve read about the case in a newspaper. Why would you come back?”  
“Nothing for me in Mexico,” Mick shrugs, eyes still glued to the floor.   
“Would it be different with me there?”  
“It doesn’t matter, does it? You didn’t want to come.”  
“It’s not that I didn’t want…”  
“You didn’t.”  
“Jesus, Mick, I couldn’t leave everything behind me! I know you’re mad about it, but it’s not that easy for me!”  
“No,” Mickey interrupts him, and this time his eyes meet Ian’s, “I’m not mad about you not coming with me. I would have been okay with it. I’m mad about you telling me it was hard for you. I’m mad about you pretending that you want to come, while you knew, from the very beginning, that you won’t do it. Should’ve told me, I’d have understood. I’m mad, that you treated me like a cheap piece of ass, fucking me few more times before you went back to your boyfriend. I’m mad, that you lied that you love me just to make sure I will still be yours, if we ever meet again. And now I’m mad, that you only came back after everything’s been settled. You only want to be with me when it’s easy and convenient for you, and you don’t give a fuck about my feelings.”  
Ian is honestly taken aback by how bitter the older boy sounds. “I didn’t think… It’s not why...” he huffs and tries again, “It was too soon, I didn’t lie.”  
“Yeah, you did. You don’t have to continue lying. I know that I’m no prize and every other boyfriend you had was better than me. I get it, okay, but the least you could do is be honest with me. I did it… all of it, for you. I thought you’d have at least a bit of decency to tell me the truth. I probably would have fucked you anyway, I’m fucking easy, aren’t I?”  
“You really shouldn’t talk about yourself like that, Mick,” Ian almost jumps when a new voice joins the conversation. It’s a tall, handsome man in his thirties who looks like he should be on a runway, modelling Zegna suits. His face looks familiar. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”  
“Except it’s not true. Gallagher here dropped me the second I told him that I loved him, repeatedly cheated on me before that. And he found himself a new boyfriend right after I landed in prison. And you, I know you’re dating Nicolas, so apparently I’m only desirable when I’m a closeted asshole, or when I’m running away from the FBI, but that’s only for a while. Cheap thrills.”  
The man visibly flinches, no longer smiling. “That’s not why, we’re just not...”  
“I know. It’s whatever. Anyways, I’ve something to give you before you leave, Gallagher.”  
Mickey disappears in what Ian assumes is his room, and the silence feels suffocating when the stranger keeps staring at him. This guy slept with Mick. Ian wonders if they are sleeping in the same bed. Unexpected jealousy burns through his veins so strongly, that he has to take a step back or he will do something stupid, like punch the guy.  
“What do you want from him?” the man suddenly asks.  
“I don’t even know you.”  
“And I’ve heard all about you. He tried to kill himself, and you weren’t there. You weren’t there because you abandoned him. Stay away, pretty boy.”  
“’Pretty boy’? Really?” Ian scoffs. The audacity of this guy… “Who the fuck are you?”  
“I’m his lawyer,” the man smiles, all teeth and no joy, “and I’d like to think I’m his friend.”  
“Friends don’t fuck.”  
“And lovers don’t abandon their partners when life gets difficult, yet here we are.”  
Ian grits his teeth so hard that he can hear them grind against each another. He thinks they might be playing a game, but he doesn’t know the rules, so he can’t win. But he is not going to back off, not when this posh fucker tries to stake him claim on Mickey, be it as a lover, or as a friend. He is about to retort, provoke the older man, when Mick returns with an envelope.   
Ian’s blood turns cold when he realizes what’s been given to him. It’s the money he gave Mickey right before leaving. His savings. He doesn’t have to check to know that the other man didn’t spend any of it. “I don’t want it, I gave it to you.”  
“And I don’t want it either. I was never going to spend any of it, and I don’t need it anymore. I have a job now. It’s a shit job, but it pays the bills. So take it and leave. It should be easy enough for you.”  
It cuts deeper than Ian would like to admit. He wants to crawl to Mickey and tell him all the things that keep him awake at night, but it’s not something he can do in front of a fucking lawyer. And he isn’t sure it would help. So he takes the money, tries to make eye contact again and fails.  
Finally, he says, “Leaving you was never easy.”   
“Could’ve fooled me.”

***

Mickey doesn’t feel so well after Ian’s visit. Aidan tries to talk, then offers to sleep next to him in case something happens. He doesn’t specify what could happen, but they both know what he means. It should make Mick angry, but instead it makes him bite his lip until it bleeds, and when Aidan finally retires to his room, after making sure that he won’t do anything stupid, he screams into a pillow. He wants a drink, wants to drink half a bottle of whiskey that will make him pass out and forget about everything. But he has work the next day, and he has to prove that he is a responsible adult. If only to get everyone off his back. So he doesn’t drink and doesn’t sleep, even though the pills usually knock him out for the night. This time, the turmoil inside his head is too much and before he realizes, he is crying, fat tears rolling down his face and wetting the pillow. He hates it, he hates the lack of control he has over his body. Suddenly, he is this weak, weeping creature that’s so different from the Mickey Milkovich he used to be, that he almost wants to call Ian, show him what he’s done. Maybe then the younger man would leave him alone, once and for all.  
Before Ian, he didn’t know what love is. He never really felt it, not even when his mother was alive, definitely not after her death. Mandy tried to keep their family together, but she was always too absorbed in her own life to truly make effort. Not that he blames her, he himself never did anything to help. He was ready to draw blood for his family, but he didn’t try to love them. Then Ian came, and nothing else mattered. Mickey would be grateful, if it wasn’t for the fact that the younger man didn’t love him back. He loved the chase and the danger. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice anything for Mickey. It’s understandable, no one would sacrifice their life for Mickey Milkovich, but it hurt all the same.  
Falling asleep was difficult, but getting up is even harder, Aidan almost drags him out of bed, politely ignoring his puffy, bloodshot eyes. He drinks two cups of dark, bitter coffee, it’s the only thing that will keep him awake, even if it means feeling anxious the whole time, heart beating too fast and too strong for his chest. His shift is hell, he tries to smile, because that’s what the manager tells them to do, but he is sure it resembles an ugly grimace more than a polite smile. He doesn’t even know, because every time he catches his reflection it turns into a scowl. He is almost glad when it’s time for his therapy session.  
He doesn’t like it. He absolutely hated it at first, but it was the only way he could avoid staying in the hospital. Aidan gave him an ultimatum, it seemed more reasonable, but he still hated it. At first, he stayed silent, staring at the therapist, challenging her to do something. But she just stared back. It became increasingly uncomfortable, so he gave her a little something. Just a small glimpse into his life. She took it, then some more. She is too good. He almost hoped she would be a crook, even though he knew Aidan wouldn’t allow that. Mickey googled her, doctor Emeka Montgomery, and found nothing but positive experiences. He thought it was too good to be true, but the more time they spent together, the more obvious it became that she is just that.  
And, in the end, it’s easier to talk to someone who isn’t close to you, even when they are smart enough to uncover the things you want to keep hidden. Like when she managed to make him say that he would try again, given a chance. They were talking about his mom, how she overdosed heroine on purpose, just to get away from Terry, and Mickey’s ‘I should’ve done the same, I’ll invest in heroine, the next time’ just slipped out. But she gave him some pills to make sleeping easier, then some more to pick him up in the morning. He doesn’t think they’re working properly since, apart from being really sleepy in the evenings, he doesn’t feel much different. Bu he does know that it takes some time to find the perfect cocktail, Ian’s bipolar taught him that.  
He tells her about Ian coming back. She already knows about the younger man. Talking about it isn’t as hard as he expected it to be. He is mostly angry or maybe frustrated, it’s hard to tell.  
“I think you should stay away from him for a while, at least relationship-wise.”  
“I know I’m not good for...”  
“No, Mickey. Not for him, for you. I don’t think he is good for you right now. You have to focus on your own mental health.”  
At first, Mickey isn’t sure he is hearing her right. Ian not being good for him is such a foreign concept that he starts laughing, but it quickly dies down when he realizes that his therapist isn’t joking. He’s never heard that before, no one has ever thought that Ian could be bad for him. Mickey is so used to thinking that he is no good for Ian, that Montgomery’s words are surreal to him. But why would she lie? She is there to help him, not to make him feel better for a second or two before he goes back to feeling worse than shit.  
“Do you have any hobbies?” she asks, out of nowhere.  
“Shooting guns,” that’s what he always told everyone. It’s a good hobby to have when you’re Southside.  
“Apart from that? Something less violent?”  
“Not really.”  
“Do you like to draw? Write? Can you cook?” she sees Mickey hesitate. “Bake?”  
“No. Maybe.”  
“You should try to bake more, it will relax you.”  
“Baking is for pussies.”  
“Is it you, or is it your father talking?”  
Mickey shakes his head and shrugs. It’s not a big deal because it’s true. Baking is for chicks.  
“I shouldn’t be saying this, because I’m here for you, not the other way round, but let me tell you one thing. It’s something my mother taught me. I can’t bake. I’m a decent cook, but every time I try to bake something goes wrong. I set the oven on fire twice, burnt hundreds of cakes, undercooked another hundred. I also have a PhD, wrote four books and was a consultant for two pretty successful Hollywood movies. But ever since I remember, my mother kept telling me that I’m not trying hard enough, that I’m not a real woman because I can’t bake, that everyone should be able to bake. I did try, I’d cry while mixing batter, hoping that this time it would come out okay. It never did. It sounds silly, I know. But we always want to make our parents proud, it’s deeply ingrained in us. And my mother wasn’t proud of me. I even took baking classes, didn’t learn to bake but got myself a husband. My husband owns a bakery, I swear, I never tasted anything better. You could say our roles are reversed, because he is the one who makes sure our home smells like cookies, which our kids take to school. When I introduced him to my mother… I have no idea why I thought she would approve, but she didn’t. She said that he isn’t a real man because he is a baker, and that’s for girls.”  
“See, Terry was right.”  
The therapist shakes her head, “No. The real lesson here is that some parents can’t be won over. No matter how hard you try, they will always find something to complain about. I’m sure, that even if I learned to bake, she still wouldn’t be proud of me. Because it’s not me who is the problem, it’s her. I learned to ignore it, ignore her. It’s the only thing you can do if you want to save yourself.”  
His throat is suddenly dry. It hit too close to home.  
“I had a different assignment prepared for you, but I decided to change it a bit. For our next session, I’d like you to bring me something you baked. I’m not allergic to anything, so you can unleash your imagination, but simple chocolate chip cookies will do too.”  
“Your husband is a fucking baker,” he says, voice somewhat wet.  
“I love everything sweet, be it a cheap, supermarket cookie or a decadent chocolate cake. I’m easy to please,” she smiles encouragingly. Old Mickey would find it patronizing, annoying, would say something that would hurt her. But he doesn’t want to be like that anymore, it never brought him anything, but pain.

Baking, as ashamed as he is to admit, always calmed him. At first he used recipes, but the more he baked, the more adventurous he got. It didn’t always work, but it worked most of the time. Mandy was the only one who knew, the only one who got to eat he things he prepared. He was honestly surprised to learn that she didn’t tell Ian. She used to tell him everything, but not this. When Mickey asked her about it, she almost looked sheepish and quickly blurted out that it’s their secret. It was surprisingly sweet, so instead of answering, he just lightly punched her arm. They both knew what he meant anyway. Ian always thought that the cookies they ate came from a box.  
Mickey never understood how people could not know how to bake. It always felt natural to him, whisking and whipping, melting and sifting. He had shit equipment, but he still managed to make something edible, so really, Montgomery must be exaggerating. Not that it matters, he will do his best with this assignment, because it’s better than anything else he had to do, and it doesn’t involve going out or talking to people.   
He spends the weekend planning what he is going to bake and decides to prepare two things, because he can’t choose. Aidan stares at him, eyebrows almost touching his hairline, when he finds Mickey with flour on his shirt, pouring batter into a cupcake tray. An hour later he moans obscenely while devouring a chocolate cupcake topped with salted caramel frosting and sprinkled with crushed, hard pretzels. Then, he proposes to Mickey after inhaling two slices of mint-chocolate pie. He would eat more, probably the whole pie, but Mick threatens to break his legs if he tries. He only needs one slice for his therapist, but he also wants to give some to Mandy. And maybe eat it as well, not that he should, seeing as he isn’t working out as often as he should. To be honest, the last time he worked out was two weeks ago, and it makes him feel like shit. He should be taking care of his body, since it’s the only thing that can get him laid ever again, but it requires too much effort. Just like hooking up, because it means going out to a club. Maybe he should get an app for that, ask dudes to come over. Maybe it will lead to some nice, rough sex. Or maybe one of them will turn out to be a psycho and, well, whatever.   
He doesn’t expect Ian to contact him again. A big part of him wants Ian to just forget about him. Mickey doesn’t have the time or the energy to spend on his ginger disappointment. It’s painfully obvious that they are not meant for one another, if only because Ian isn’t willing to fight for him. They could easily start fucking again, sex was never a problem with them. But Mickey isn’t sure he can handle it. Ian doesn’t really understand his situation, if he ever did. The redhead never noticed his problems, and while the old Mickey was more than happy without anyone acknowledging his issues, his new self simply can’t live like that anymore. He is tired of living in general, but especially of living a lie. And his life now boils down working and sleeping, seeing his therapist and crying. It’s not thrilling, half of the time he can’t get it up when he tries to masturbate, but not because of the meds, no, his dick stays limp because he is too fucking sad. Ian can barely handle his own problems, how is he supposed to deal with Mickey’s?   
During their next session Montgomery makes some pretty inappropriate noises, when she tries his creations. He tries to look like he isn’t affected, but he fails miserably. He forgot, or maybe never really experienced it, how good it feels to be appreciated.   
“I have an idea,” Montgomery says once her mouth isn’t full of chocolate cake, “but I need to think about it more. For now, I want you to go out and try to make a friend.”  
“What?”  
“Go out, talk to people, Mickey. I know it seems pointless and hard, but it’s going to help. No matter what some may say, we’re not lonely islands.”  
“I don’t… I can’t… clubs are...” he stutters, never finishing the sentence.   
“You don’t have to go to a club. I don’t want you to think that you have to change yourself for people to like you. You can go to a park or a bar, just some regular bar, grab a beer and strike up a conversation with a stranger. I want you to try.” Like that’s any easier.   
When he gets home, he is exhausted and terrified. He doesn’t know what made his therapist think that he knows how to talk to people, he’s never had any friends. He is not interesting, he doesn’t know anything, he doesn’t watch any popular movies, doesn’t read the books, he is nothing. The best he can do is drop to his knees and suck someone’s dick in the hope that he will stay. He is on the verge of a panic attack, when his phone pings. Mandy is in the next room, so it can’t be her, and Aidan rarely ever texts him because he is one of those who just have to call. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he definitely recognizes Ian’s soft eyes and a smile that looks almost embarrassed. The caption says: ‘I miss you. I’m sorry.’ Mickey doesn’t cry. He deletes the message, goes to sleep and when he wakes up in the morning he knows he is going to go out and just fucking do it. He is going to talk to a random stranger. That’s what normal people do. He has to prove that he is well-adjusted, and he will. He fucking will.  
So he goes to a bar, orders a beer, and twenty minutes later finds himself smoking his second, or maybe third, cigarette when someone approaches him. It’s a guy he vaguely recognizes from the bar, the one who kept staring at him when he thought Mickey wasn’t looking. At first, Mickey assumed it was because the guy recognized him from the news, but he didn’t seem scared at all.  
“This is going to seem really weird, but I swear I’m not a creep.”  
“You really don’t inspire much confidence when you start with that.”  
“I know, shit,” they guy has a soft, almost baby-like face, but his hands tell a different story. Mickey decides he has to be at least twenty five. “Okay, alright, I’m Luke, and I’m a photographer. My exhibition is opening soon, and I’m still missing few pieces.”  
“And..?”  
“And you are really beautiful, so please model for me. I’m going to pay you, two hundred bucks for three hours of modeling. It’s not a scam, I’m desperate.”  
He looks it. His brown eyes look slightly wet, like he is going to burst into tears if Mick says no. Mickey doesn’t particularly want to be photographed, no matter what Luke says, he is not beautiful, but it sounds like easy money. Even if the other guy tries to cheat him, Mickey doesn’t think he will have any problems with shaking him up for a bit of cash.  
He doesn’t tell Mandy what he is going to do, but he gives her Luke’s address. She doesn’t believe him that he is going to meet with a friend. Her eyes follow him, as he moves around the flat, getting ready. She either thinks he is going to hook up with someone, or that he is going to do something stupid. Telling her would calm her down, but Mickey can’t do it. It’s too ridiculous, he knows she would laugh. Him? A model? What a joke.   
He mentally prepares himself for three hours of embarrassment and the annoyance of being texted every fifteen minutes. It’s a precaution. If he doesn’t text back, Mandy or Aidan are going to call, and if he doesn’t answer, they will call the ambulance. They think it’s going to save him, he knows that all it takes is a gun. He can blow his head off in less than fifteen minutes, but the ambulance would still be necessary. As a clean-up. He doesn’t have a gun, but he can easily get one. It’s Chicago, there are guns everywhere, legal or not. It’s tempting, but he promised Mandy that he will try, and he is willing to do that for her. Even if she left him before.   
His palms are slightly sweaty when Luke finally opens the door, but he immediately feels better when he sees how jittery the other man is. His hands are visibly shaking, and Mickey wonders if he is going to be murdered. He shoves Luke aside and checks the rooms, but doesn’t find anything suspicious. There are pictures almost everywhere, pictures of people and places, and he doesn’t know much about photography, but he knows that he likes what he sees.   
“I’m not going to look anything like that, man,” he says self-consciously, staring at a portrait of a dark-skinned man covered in gold glitter.  
“You will look better,” Luke says, and when Mickey turns to him, the other man isn’t looking at the picture. “We have to discuss some things before we start.”  
“Like what? You take some photos, pay me, we never talk again.”  
“I have a contract. It doesn’t mention any money, because of the taxes, but I’ll pay you upfront, so don’t worry.”  
“What’s the contract for?”  
“It’s mostly for you, you can withdraw your consent any time, and I won’t be able to show your pictures anymore.”  
“Is that why you had to find a new model last minute? Someone pulled out?”  
“Yeah,” the photographer admits quietly, looking extremely uncomfortable. “There is something more. I, well. I’m HIV positive.”  
Mickey doesn’t really know what he is supposed to say to that. He is not well-versed in proper human interactions. He’s never had anyone admit that to him. Is he supposed to be revolted? Terry would think it’s a perfect punishment for being a fag. The last thing he wants is to be like his father.   
“Why are you telling me this? As far as I know, you can’t give it to me by taking pictures.”  
“No, of course not. Besides, I’m medicated, so there really isn’t much risk...”  
“So? You want to fuck me?”  
Luke’s face turns bright red. It’s kind of cute, and Mickey bites his lip to stop himself from smirking.   
“No! I mean, you are very attractive, and I wouldn’t be opposed to… But I thought it would be fair to you.”  
“I’ve no idea who told you that you have to announce to the world that you’re positive, but whatever. I don’t care,” Mickey decides not to mention that he doesn’t care for his life in general. Somehow, he knows it wouldn’t make Luke feel any better. Instead, he tries to smile encouragingly, “Where do you want me?”  
Posing turns out to be extremely awkward. He is wearing a tank-top, because he wasn’t told to dress up, and he doesn’t know what to do with his body. But Luke is patient, he guides him through the poses and tells him exactly what he wants from him. Everything becomes much easier once Mickey relaxes, almost forgets that there is a camera pointed at him. When he imagined posing, he thought he would be expected to showcase raw, brutal masculinity. That’s what people always found attractive about him, that’s what Ian wanted him to be – at least towards the end of their story. At first it seemed that he wanted Mickey to soften around the edges. It doesn’t matter anymore, Ian is too confusing for him.  
But Luke wants him to keep his mouth relaxed, he puts a bit of gloss on them to make them look even softer. He asks Mickey to lie on a bed, face almost hidden in a pillow, soft duvet covering his lower body, hair carefully tousled to make it look like he just woke up. Then he makes Mickey smoke a cigarette, whole body soaked in orange sunset light as he sits on a wide window sill. It doesn’t feel like him, but it’s comfortable, so maybe he doesn’t know himself as well as he thought he did. Luke pays him, and then asks him to come back again to take more photos. He agrees, telling himself that he will be able to cover up Ian’s name with what he makes.   
Two sessions later Luke has him half naked on a kitchen floor with broken glass next to his head, and he doesn’t really feel like reaching for it. Later, when it’s completely dark outside, he finds himself completely naked, back arched slightly as he lies on his front. Luke tells him to play coy. He doesn’t really know what it means, but he turns his face away in shame and can’t stop his legs from spreading oh-so-slightly, when the other man praises him.  
Luke kisses him while he is curled around a ridiculously big pillow, eyes heavy-lidded. Mickey lets him. He lets him do everything he wants. The other man licks every inch of his skin, sucks on his nipples and fingers him with reverence. It’s a slow, hot act. He’s never experienced anything like that before. He moans and gasps when Luke rocks into him unhurriedly. Luke is in him so deep, that Mickey can almost taste him. It’s overwhelming. He needs a few minutes to get his bearings after Luke is done with him, but he still doesn’t want to move when the photographer comas back with a damp cloth to clean his exhausted body. “You should stop sleeping with your models,” he says when Luke spoons him. The other man just laughs and tells him to text his sister that he is staying over.  
He wakes up three hours later, panicking, and on a whim decides to tell Luke about his suicide attempt. It seems like a reasonable thing to do at two in the morning, when everything but his brain is so fucking quiet. He’s never told anyone before, there was no need, they already knew. He didn’t really anticipate how hard it will be to choke the words out, but it’s so freeing, that he doesn’t know if the wetness he feels under the eyelids is from sadness or relief.  
“I considered… After I learned about the virus. I thought it would be better for everyone else.”  
“Why didn’t you?”  
He can feel Luke shrug behind him, “Pure luck. Someone important saw my pictures and my career took off. I lost myself in it at first, then I realized that I can live like other people, it’s not a death sentence. It’s important to have something worth living for.”  
“I have a son,” Mickey blurts out, “his mother doesn’t want him to see me. She said I’m bad influence, not worth keeping around. I didn’t want him, but...”  
“People change. You should talk to her.”  
“She is right. I don’t have anything to offer him. I have a shit job, and I have to be monitored 24/7, because I keep thinking about offing myself.”  
“I think you should take one step at a time. Focus on yourself first, help yourself. I don’t know you that well, but something tells me you do too much for other people. For this… Ian?”  
Mickey hasn’t told him about Ian. They made a deal, Luke doesn’t like using Photoshop, but he promised to erase the tattoo. Mickey doesn’t want to immortalize it in a picture. He feels shame when he looks at it. He was so weak and needy when he had it done, hoped that it would make Ian come back to him. It’s enough that he has to live with his mistakes, he doesn’t want others to know about them.  
“It’s… you don’t know me,” he says, trying to sound confident, but not denying it.  
“I’d love to get to know you better.”  
It makes Mickey laugh out loud. They are spooning like a couple of old fags, after they already fucked, and now the other man says he wants to be friends. Mickey is pretty sure that friends don’t fuck, but he doesn’t have the best track record with friends. After all, Aidan fucked him in various positions and places before they settled on being just friends.  
“Most of the time I like to be fucked hard and deep,”  
“See? We’re getting there,” Luke chuckles like a dork, before forcing Mickey onto his back. Then he proceeds to give it to him hard and fast, and Mickey feels like he found the perfect cure for his depression, if only for a while. It feels so good when strong hands grip his ass and thighs, leaving finger-shaped bruises behind, and when the warm, wet tongue licks the sweat off his neck. It’s a pity they have to use condoms, he loves being marked so deeply, and for one, crazy second he considers forcing Luke to take it off, fuck him bare. But he is not going to be this selfish, there is enough self-loathing in him, that he doesn’t want someone who’s been nothing, but nice to him, to experience the same thing.   
Luke falls asleep on him, covering him like a human blanket. It feels safe, and Mickey joins him soon after, hoping that he won’t wake up feeling like he doesn’t belong here.  
Mickey still feels thoroughly fucked out when he unlocks the door to his flat. Despite the soreness, it almost feels like he is floating, his limbs and head are so light, that he barely notices that Mandy isn’t alone. She is here, she’s been waiting for him to come back. He expected that. He didn’t expect Ian to be there in his tall, red glory. Any other time, Mickey would feel intimidated, but he is high on sex and pleasurable company, and the longer he stares, the more exhausted Ian looks. He wants to ask, if the redhead has been taking his meds, but he is not going to make the same mistake again. He learned his lesson alright. Instead, he makes himself a cup of coffee, just to have something to do. He could lock himself in his room, but it would make him look like a coward. He feels strong at the moment, so he is going to use it.  
“Why are you here?”  
“I was keeping Mandy company. And I wanted to see you.”  
“Mhm.”  
“I always want to see you,” Ian says with conviction, trying to meet Mickey’s eyes. “Mandy, can you give us a minute?”  
His sister sends him a quick look, for the first time in forever asking what she is supposed to do. It’s nice of her, but she still was the one who let Ian in, and Mickey doesn’t know how he feels about that. He nods, because he knows how persistent the other man is.   
“I’ll go our for a while and grab some milk. Do you need anything else?”  
He shakes his head and Mandy smiles at him briefly before glaring at Ian. She leaves, and suddenly the flat is really quiet.   
“I’m sorry that I made promises I couldn’t keep,” the redhead says, sounding like he means it. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I know you don’t believe that I love you, but I want to prove it to you. Please give me a chance.”  
“What about your boyfriend, huh? What about Trevor?”  
Ian freezes, clearly not expecting that. Mickey knew that Ian wouldn’t break up with his boyfriend, at least not before he got together with him again. He needed a backup plan, and all that.  
“See, Gallagher, maybe I love you, man, maybe I still do. But I sure as fuck don’t like you.”  
“I will break up with him. I will.”  
“And I will cover up your name. I already scheduled a date. Wanted to remove it, but they told me it’s too deep and messed up.”  
Ian has the guts to look almost offended. Of course he would want to stay inked into Mickey’s skin forever, he wants to be the most important person in his life without returning the sentiment.   
“Even if you break up with him,” Mickey continues, “I’m not going to promise you anything.”  
“I don’t want you to. I’ll be the one making promises this time, real promises.”  
Ian seems sincere, but he always does. He is a master of wide-eyed, honest looks that mean nothing. Mickey needs a shot of vodka. He wants coke. So he gets up and goes to his tiny kitchen, and starts doing what he does best – baking. He ignores Ian’s presence, he can’t deal with him anymore. He knows that the younger man is watching him, but he doesn’t care. There is only so much he can stand. By the time Mandy is back with way more groceries than she was supposed to buy, Mickey is putting Pavlova into the oven.   
He can hear Mandy asking Ian, “Did you upset him?” and the other man quietly responds with, “We talked about our relationship a bit.”  
“Yeah, I can see how that would upset him. I think you should leave now.”  
“I didn’t know Mick could bake,” Ian says somewhat bitterly. “How did I not know that?”  
“He didn’t want you to know.”  
Some whispering follows, but he is too busy preparing fruit to pay any attention to what people, who were once the closest to him, are saying. When Ian finally leaves, Mandy tries to apologize to him, but it’s too late. The damage is done, the redhead is in his life, trying to worm his way inside again, and nothing can stop him. Mickey is too weak to do it. He can be strong in every aspect of life, but when Ian decides that he wants to be close, the best he can do to protect himself is hide.


	3. Chapter 3

Ian is glad that Mickey gave him an ultimatum. Well, he gave it to himself, but it doesn’t change anything. He is going to break up with Trevor, and it makes him giddy with happiness. He thinks they could be great friends, but being Trevor’s boyfriend feels suffocating. If he asks the wrong question or doesn’t want to do something, his boyfriend will cry or scream, or do both at the same time. It’s exhausting. Ian is grateful that Trev exposed him to the LGBT culture, but he doesn’t need or want a teacher. He wants a partner, equal partner. They can’t even switch during sex. because Trevor looks so miserable when he is supposed to bottom that Ian just can’t force him. So he forces himself and pretends that it gets better with every time, while in reality he would rather stick to blowjobs and handjobs.  
The worst thing about their break up will definitely be Trevor’s reaction. He already knows that there will be tears, but he is worried that the other boy will make it about the fact that he is transgender. Ian understands that it’s his way of protecting himself, if he blames it on something, then it’s easier to ignore the fact that maybe it’s something he’s done, something in his personality. Ian is far from being a saint, he did cheat on Trevor, but… It doesn’t really matter, but he never wanted to cheat on Mick, and it was so easy to cheat on Trevor. He didn’t even stop to think twice about it, just jumped right into it. Then he fucked up majorly, but that’s something that he has to fix with Mickey.  
When his soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend opens the door he looks so happy to see Ian that he almost wants to run. Just disappear, until the other man takes a hint. But he is trying to stop being a coward and taking the easy way out. So he smiles, making sure that his smile isn’t too big or overly friendly. Just a professional smile he gives to his boss when he needs something from her. He doesn’t want to drag it out, he doesn’t want to be cruel. What he wants, is to be over and done with it.  
“Do you remember Mandy’s friend who is on a suicide watch?”  
“Yeah? What about them? Are they alright?”  
“Yes. Well, no, he isn’t alright, he tried to kill himself, and I don’t think he is doing much better.”  
“It’s definitely not easy to pull yourself out of depression,” Trevor says with compassion. “I think I know a good psychiatrist, if...”  
“No, that’s not why I’m telling you about it. I wanted to tell you that it’s my Mickey.”  
“Your… Mickey? Your ex who always drags you down and gets you in dangerous shit?”  
“That’s what I told you, isn’t it?” Ian chuckles at his own spitefulness. “That’s him, but I might have stretched the truth a bit.”  
“Clearly, if he tried to kill himself. He didn’t seem the type, from what you told me.”  
“I never thought he would do that,” Ian pulls out his last cigarette and lights it up. His hands shake slightly, “it’s my fault, I think. At least partially. I left him when he needed me. He told me he loved me, and I broke up with him because it was better for me. He went to prison, and Lana had to pay me to visit him. He broke out of prison, and I broke his heart again.”  
“You are breaking up with me, aren’t you? Your ex came back, free of charges, and now it’s safe for you to come back.”  
Trevor’s words sting, because they are eerily similar to what Mickey’s said. And Ian is starting to think that there is some truth in it. He never thought about it before. His family always told him that he should take care of himself first, and it never crossed his mind that they don’t know much about love.  
“Enjoy his dick,” Trevor finally spits out.  
“It’s not about his dick, it never was.”  
“I get it, he lets you fuck him, because that’s the most important thing for you. A warm place to stick your dick in,” the other boy looks like he is on the verge of tears, and Ian knows they will spill soon. He should leave, but he can’t let Trevor belittle the most important relationship of his life like that.  
“You have no fucking idea what you are talking about. Mickey is more than that. He gave up everything for me, suffered through the things you haven’t even seen. He’s been there when I was depressed, stayed with me while I was manic, so don’t you fucking try to insult him.”  
“Well, you said it yourself, you left him for your own convenience, and you’ve been a complete dick to him, so good luck with getting back with him. I sure hope, for his sake, that he doesn’t take you back. The last thing he needs is your needy ass on top of everything he is dealing with.”  
Initially, Ian thought that he could suggest being friends. They would be great friends. But it’s glaringly obvious that they can’t be anything at all. If only because Ian is outraged by Trevor’s assessment of him and his relationship with Mick.  
He slams the door when he leaves, because it really doesn’t matter what Trevor thinks anymore. If the other boy wants to think that he is a needy, moody asshole than so be it. He will have a nice story to tell his friends, who could never be Ian’s friends because he is too Southside for them, even though they pretended to accept him for Trevor’s sake. He doesn’t need pity of people who don’t understand his life.  
Mickey understands. He understands it all, and Ian’s first instinct is to run to him. He can’t do that, not right after he broke up with a person he, technically, chose over Mick. How could he not realize that it always was, and always will be, Mickey for him? After all this time he still wants Mick, not Caleb or Trevor, to take the pain away. He should have known. If he did, he wouldn’t have to beg for forgiveness. He wouldn’t have to worry about the future of their relationship which, as Trevor said, might not even exist.  
Instead of going to Mickey’s, he goes home. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore. Maybe it’s because he is too old to live with his family, or maybe it’s the fact that the older he gets, the less forgiving he is. All of them idolized Fiona when they were younger, but now he is beginning to see that she is not only ruining her own life, but also sabotaging theirs. If it wasn’t for her advice, he wouldn’t have done some of the things that put him in a situation he is in right now. It’s unfair to blame all of it on her, but she definitely heavily contributed. Ian spent many sleepless nights after he left Mickey at the border. His brain replayed Fiona’s words over and over again, until he realized that what she said wasn’t true. She was projecting her feelings onto him, made Mickey into the bad guy because she couldn’t stand the thought that his ex-boyfriend is nothing like Jimmy/Steve. It made him wonder, if he is anything like Fiona, but that’s not a question he could answer himself.  
Ian doesn’t expect to see Lip when he gets home, but his brother is sitting on a couch, eating chips. Everyone thought that after Sierra’s disappearance, the girl just called one day and said that she won’t be coming to work the next day, Lip’s drinking would get worse and it happened, but then he stopped almost completely. Hence the junk food eating. He still looks absolutely miserable, but at least he isn’t following in his father’s footsteps anymore.  
Ian sits next to him, hoping that maybe this time he will get the support he needs. He already made a decision, but he just needs someone to share it with. Carl is away doing what he always wanted to do, and Debbie is so wrapped up in her own little drama, that Ian doesn’t even recognize her anymore. She probably doesn’t recognize herself either.  
“I broke up with Trev.”  
“Because of Mickey?” Lip asks without missing a beat.  
“Why do you think that?”  
“Isn't it always about him?”  
“Then yeah, I guess, because of him.”  
“You seen him already?”  
“Mhm, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”  
“It’s Mickey, he could never hate you.”  
“Well, he did say he doesn’t like me anymore,” Ian mumbles before reaching for a chip. Times like this he misses the alcohol. "Don’t tell Fiona, but I almost went with him to Mexico.”  
“I know. You disappeared for a while, it was pretty obvious were you went. Fiona doesn’t know, or maybe she doesn’t want to know. You chickened out?”  
“It wasn’t the right thing to do, I’m not that guy anymore,” Ian tries, but Lip sends him a disbelieving look. “Yeah, I chickened out.”  
“Mick isn’t my friend or anything, God knows we all left him once you broke up with him, but unlike Fiona, I can see that he made you happy. Even after you started taking your pills again and got better, you still were miserable. With Caleb… definitely with Trevor.”  
“What do you think then?”  
“I think that Mickey is probably going through some tough shit and needs a lot of support. Can you do that? Is it going to be good for your own health? You have to think about all that. Like I said, I’m not Mickey’s fan, but if you make him believe you’ll be there for him again, and then back out, it’s going to be a dick move. You said he already tried to off himself, so… You gotta be careful, gotta be sure.”  
“I...” Ian wants to be sure, but how can he be? He’s never cared for someone with depression, and he is still sick, even if the medication keeps it at bay. “I don’t want to break him more than I already did. But I love him, I really do.”  
“I know, Ian. But love isn’t always enough.”  
“Fuck, I could use a drink or five.”  
“Tell me about it.”

***

Luke shows him what it means to date. With Ian, they went from fucking to basically living together. They never had their date. Mickey doesn’t need it, he is alright with staying home, fucking and eating pizza. But he discovers that he doesn’t hate dating. Of course, it’s not really dating, because they are friends who have sex rather than boyfriends, but it’s nice. Luke almost always pays, and when Mickey presses him, the photographer admits that he is pretty loaded. Mickey sees more of his works, and he can understand why. He doesn’t know anything about photography, but he can tell that Luke has an eye for detail and manages to capture raw emotions when he takes pictures of people. It makes him both excited and worried about his pictures, especially since his friend won’t let him see them before the exhibition.  
There are two breakthrough moments in their developing friendship. The first one happens when Luke comes with him to the tattoo cover-up session, and somehow manages to convince him to get tree branches with flowers on them. Mickey didn’t really think about it before, but flowers always seemed too girly. But Luke and the tattoo artist show him some amazing designs, and he ends up with a tattoo much bigger than he originally thought it would be. Bigger and decidedly more red and pink, but it blends nicely with the blackness of the branches, so he doesn’t mind. The new tattoo goes all the way from the top of his left arm to the right clavicle, almost touching the right arm. It covers Ian’s name completely, like it’s never been there. For a second, while the tattoo artist was just starting to cover the name, he felt a pang of guilt, which was quickly overpowered by sadness. But once everything was covered, he felt like his own person again. The tattoo hurt like a motherfucker, and he doesn’t look forward to the healing process, but it feels good to finally be free.  
The second breakthrough comes when Mickey talks about the rape. It’s one the things he discussed with his therapist, but he’s never really told anyone else. And talking with a therapist just isn’t the same, there are things she’s not allowed to do, that maybe need to be done. He didn’t plan on telling Luke, it just happened.  
They are sitting in Luke’s studio, the other man just finished talking with his friend on a phone. Mickey feels guilty for keeping him away from his friends. Luke likes parties, but they never go to any together.  
“We can meet with your friends, if you want. Go to a club or whatever.”  
Luke snorts into his beer before he realizes that Mickey isn’t joking. “Why are you offering?”  
“You like that.”  
“Yeah, but you don’t. I’m not going to pressure you into doing something you hate. From what you’ve told me, you already tried and didn’t like it. Why would it be any different this time?”  
It seems to be a genuine question, but Mickey just shrugs because he has no idea why. Something keeps telling him that he should just do it, whether he likes it or not.  
“It won’t be, trust me. Just a bunch of drunk assholes laughing about dumb shit and dancing. It’s fun for me, so I go out with them every once in a while, when we’re not together. Not too often though. I don’t need you to like everything that I do.”  
“We have nothing in common.”  
“And that, my friend, is not true! We both can appreciate the beauty of a male form, like to eat dick, have similar taste in movies. Also, you like to bake, and I like to eat, well, everything, so I have to disagree with you, and say that we’re a match made in heaven, fuck you very much.”  
Mickey has to laugh, Luke can be fucking ridiculous. But he is also grateful. With Ian, he always had to change, he was never enough. Then he changed too much, and it wasn’t enough either. It was scary and confusing. He hates to admit it, but it made him feel insecure. It’s easier to be comfortable in your skin, if others don’t seem to mind your imperfections.  
“I told you I have a kid, right?” Luke nods, face turning serious. “I want to tell you how it happened. Don’t interrupt me ‘cause I might bolt if you do.”  
Talking about it the second time is easier, but it’s not, by any means, easy. After the rape he didn’t allow himself to think about what happened. Rape by women isn’t something that happens to guys, especially not in the Southside. He remembers Ian trying to make sure he was alright, but the redhead did it in a completely wrong way. Ian wanted him to forget, get over it, and it wasn’t something Mickey could do. At that time he didn’t know how to communicate, he couldn’t tell Ian to let him process it on his own. He grew frustrated, he snarled and shouted at the redhead, and after a while, everyone seemed to forget about the whole thing.  
Only, Mickey can’t forget. He is not afraid of women, but he looks at them sometimes and wants to puke. Sometimes, he remembers the way Lana’s body felt on his, and he has to take a shower, scrub his stomach and thighs raw. Sometimes, there is blood. Most of the time he is okay, he doesn’t hold a grudge against Svetlana, it was her job. If he blames her for other things, well, it’s a different story entirely.  
Luke stares at him, wide-eyed and shocked, before he hugs him. It’s not one of those soft, unsure hugs given when you don’t know what to say. It’s a strong hug that makes Mickey feel grounded. After a while, he catches himself breathing in the same pattern as Luke, who still hasn’t said anything, but it’s fine because Mickey can feel it.  
They stay like this for a long time. Mickey worries it’s going to be awkward, but when he finally lets go, Luke gives him a short, sweet kiss before asking if he wants to order something to eat. He does, he is feeling ravenous, even though he ate two hours ago. They have pizza, then Luke drives him home, and right before Mickey gets out of the car, the other man presses his big, warm hand against his cheek and stares into his eyes, which feels extremely intimate.  
“I’m so glad that you’re still there despite everything you went through, and that I was able to meet you. Thank you.” Mickey is too embarrassed to answer with words, so he kisses Luke and bolts for the door.  
Aidan is lounging in the living room, but at least he is alone. It still pisses Mickey off that they treat him like a child, but he can’t deny the fact that if he were left alone, he’d probably blow his head off. Because no matter how great things are with Luke, it’s only a small part of his life. Everything else is just… it’s a nasty mess.  
He sits next to the older man, and pulls out a phone to check the messages Ian left. The redhead has been messaging him a lot. Mickey never replies, but it doesn’t stop Ian. There are eight messages, both texts and pictures. They seem pretty innocent, Ian writes about his day, attaches pictures of the stuff he had for dinner, finishes every message with a short ‘miss you’. Mickey hates how much he doesn’t actually mind it. Knowing, that the younger man is doing well eases his mind. He is proud of what his ex achieved, how far he has come. It makes him feel inadequate, but that’s how he always felt around bright, radiant Ian.  
“Nicolas not putting out, or what,” he asks when Aidan’s hand creeps towards his dick. He doesn’t really have an orgasm in him, though he also knows that it doesn’t always mean much.  
“No, that’s not it. You just looked like you needed it.”  
“I don’t need a pity fuck, and I’ve already done it twice today, so fuck you for assuming.”  
“With your friend Lucas?” Aidan is yet to meet the photographer. They spoke on a phone because the lawyer worries too much.  
“It’s Luke, and yeah.”  
“Good, I’m glad.”  
Mickey rolls his eyes so hard that he is sure it makes his body shake, “Did you really just say that you’re happy I’m getting fucked? Jesus. And you’re not my fucking dad, he would bash my head in for being a fag, so stop acting like that.”  
“I could be your daddy,” Aidan murmurs cheekily while Mickey gags. He knows he has some issues, but if there is one thing that’s going to make him hightail it out of the bedroom, then it’s a daddy kink. He is up for using various toys, maybe getting tied up, but he will deck the first guy who tries to make him use the d-word.

Montgomery, Mickey decides, is out of her fucking mind. Completely out of it. They are currently standing in front of a fucking bakery owned by his therapist’s husband. Because Montgomery decided Mickey should be a baking apprentice. It’s definitely against some rules, so maybe he should rat her out… But he kind of wants to try. He already knows that he will fail, if only because he doesn’t know how to play nice, but at least he can try. No one will bother him again after he fails.  
It’s almost nine in the evening, but Montgomery’s husband doesn’t even look tired when he greets them, smile full of blindingly white teeth. Who the fuck looks like that, only Aidan and this joker.  
“Hi, I’m Grégoire, Em told me so much about you,” of course he is fucking French, what else could he be, Jesus Christ. “Well, she told me that you like baking and let me try the tiniest bit of the pie you made, really tiny, but it was enough to show me what I’ll be working with.”  
“Uh, I’m Mickey.”  
Grégoire beams at him like an asshole, like he is actually happy to meet him, which is bullshit because no one is ever happy to meet a Milkovich. Of course this fucking Frenchman doesn’t know anything about Milkoviches, but he will soon learn. Mickey will, probably unwillingly, show him.  
“How do you feel about decorating cakes?”  
The question blindsides him, so he blurts out the answer before he can properly think about it, “Bullshit is what it is. Whipped cream or whatever, chocolate decorations are fine, pointless but they taste good. But the fucking sugar thing? This… fondant? Who the fuck wants something like that on their cake, sure it looks nice if you’re into this stuff, but it tastes like shit. Cakes are meant to taste good, not to be fucking photographed and tossed out.”  
He finishes his mini-rant with a huff. Right after that he realizes that he probably already fucked up and won’t even be given a chance to fuck up in the kitchen. He is almost afraid to look up, he doesn’t want to see Montgomery’s disapproving face or her husband’s shocked one. But he can’t just leave, so he slowly raises his eyes.  
Grégoire looks delighted, there is no other way to describe it. He looks like he’s been handed million dollars in cash. “We’re going to work so well together, I can already tell. Fondant is bullshit!” it sounds funny when he says it with a French accent. “You will still learn to make and use it, but you’re absolutely right about it.”  
Mickey has never thought he would bond with someone over their hatred for fondant of all things, but that’s his life now. The truth is, he’s made it before. Maybe it wasn’t up to the highest standards, but it worked well enough. He made some roses and a gun, and then threw it all out because it’s not edible unless you are a freak/  
Grégoire is really flexible when it comes to the working hours, not that he has any other choice with Mickey’s work schedule changing every week. Mickey won’t be paid, obviously, but he will get to play with everything in the kitchen, and that’s fine with him. That’s way more than he could afford, if he ever wanted to go to the pastry school. Which he never even thought about before.  
It’s a little overwhelming. He crashes hard when he gets home, which makes Mandy think that he is having a mental breakdown. She calls Aidan, and Mickey can’t stop crying long enough to tell her that he’s done something good for himself, maybe. It’s just… The pressure is too much. He’s been given a huge chance, but he is going to fuck up, just like he fucked up every good thing in his life.  
He shouldn’t have done this. He should have stayed home, drinking beer and watching shit movies instead of letting fucking Montgomery give him false hope. Like he could be a baker, what a fucking joke, he is a criminal and a fag, and that’s all he will ever be.  
“Should I call a doctor,” Aidan quietly asks.  
“N...no,” he hiccups, sounding like an idiot.  
“Alright. Can I touch you?”  
Mickey makes a vague gesture which could be interpreted either way, and the other man apparently chooses to think of it as a yes, because he wraps his arms around Mickey’s much smaller body.  
“Did someone hurt you?”  
“As if someone can fucking hurt me any more than I’m hurting myself,” he mutters, not really caring anymore. It’s not quite true, Ian knows how to ruin him, but his own head isn’t far behind.  
“then what happened?”  
“Montgomery got me a fucking apprenticeship at her husband’s bakery.”  
“Mhm?”  
“I can’t do it. I’m a fucking thug. I can shoot a gun and beat someone to a pulp, not make fucking cookies, pies and profiteroles like a posh asshole. I will fuck up, and you’ll all finally see that I’m not worth the effort. Scanning shit is the best I can do.”  
Aidan squeezes him so tight that it really hurts. “I don’t give a fuck about cookies, pies and profiteroles. I don’t even know what a profiterole is. And neither does Mandy. Or any other person in your life. We do it, because we love you, whether you’re a cashier or a baker, or a thug. But I tasted the things you make, and they are amazing, so the only way for you can fuck up, is to give up before you even start. If it doesn’t work out, fine. You will find something else, you are far more talented than you give yourself credit for. But our feelings don’t depend on you skills, or on the job you have. We will love you regardless of that. You can be a waste collector, and we will still love you.”  
Mickey wants to stop crying, but it doesn’t matter because his body just won’t stop. So he continues to sob like a baby, his tears soaking into the pillow and the t-shirt he is wearing.  
“Do you believe me?” Aidan asks after a second, and Mickey shrugs. “It’s okay, I’ll keep reminding you about it.”  
He is still crying fifteen minutes later, but he manages to choke out, “Profiteroles are cream puffs, and they are delicious.”  
He doesn’t believe Aidan, of course he doesn’t fucking believe him. But Grégoire doesn’t kick him out after the first week. Or the second. Or the third. Because of this, Mickey starts to think that maybe he is going to do okay.  
Hope is a scary, beautiful thing.

***

Mickey didn’t answer any of his messages. And that’s fine, the other man isn’t required to do it, not at all. But Ian worries that maybe something is wrong. Mandy keeps telling him that he should leave her brother alone, which is terribly unfair, seeing as she was the one who let him inside Mick’s flat. But just as Mickey isn’t obliged to answer his texts, he isn’t obliged to stop.  
When he finds himself waiting outside Mick’s workplace, he tells himself it’s not stalking. He is worried about someone who was once very close to him. But judging from the look on the older man’s face when he finally finishes work, he doesn’t see it this way.  
“I wanted to check if you’re alright,” Ian says before his ex accuses him of something dubious.  
“I am, bye.”  
Mickey starts walking, so Ian takes three big steps to be next to him. “Can I walk you home?” he asks, feeling like he is fifteen again.  
“No, and I’m not going home.”  
“Let me walk with you, please Mick.”  
The smaller man sighs and doesn’t say anything. Ian smiles before realizing that Mickey can’t really do anything else. They both know that Ian won’t give up, and running away is not an option. It would be silly anyway. The old Mickey would punch him, but it’s obvious that he no longer exists. Or at least doesn’t make the appearance as often as he used to.  
The older man doesn’t exactly look bad, but he seems tired. Ian’s seen this when he was in the psychiatric ward. Most people would mistake it for being overworked, but he knows that it’s because Mickey is tired of life. Ian has never thought that the other man was even capable of feeling like this, which really shows how little attention he paid to his ex. Now, he wants to hug him and never let go, but he no longer has this privilege.  
When they reach their destination, Ian is slightly surprised. He watches Mickey pick out silicone baking molds and a baking thermometer, then they go to another store in which he buys some flour and a vanilla extract.  
“So you’re really into baking now?”  
“I guess,” Mickey says curtly before adding, almost shyly, “I’m a… baking apprentice now, kinda.”  
He has a hard time stopping himself from smiling, Mickey shared with him without being prompted, and it’s almost like he accepted Ian’s presence.  
“Amazing, I’m so happy for you. I hope I’ll be able to eat something you made one day.”  
They spend the rest of the walk back in silence, but Ian makes sure to brush against the other man every now and then. He is giddy with excitement, like he used to be when Mick would sneak looks at him in the past. He doesn’t anymore, but Ian hopes it will come back some day.  
“I broke up with Trevor,” he says when they stop in front of Mickey’s building. He won’t come in, not because he isn’t invited, but because he doesn’t want to overwhelm the other man. “I know you don’t want to hear about it anymore, but let me say one last thing, please.”  
He waits, until he sees the tiniest of nods, “When I left, I genuinely thought you’d be alright without me. I hoped you’d finally have a good life. I wanted you to be happy. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. But you are right too, I did it out of fear, which I regret. I don’t regret telling you that I love you, the timing wasn’t good, but I meant it. Still do. You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now. But I won’t because I’m done hurting you.”  
“Ian, I...”  
“I miss kissing you so much. You have the best lips, they are always so soft and plump. I miss having sex with you, your thick thighs wrapped around my head, I love your thighs. But I miss waking up next to you the most.”  
He doesn’t wait for an answer, leaves before he does something dumb like start crying. He wants Mickey to give him another chance, but not because he cried and whined, and the older man felt sorry for him.  
He keeps coming back. Sometimes, Mickey doesn’t let him in. Those days, the older boy looks like something is haunting him, and Ian wants to be there for him. But he is not allowed.  
Sometimes, Mickey lets him in, and Ian does all the talking. From time to time Aidan or Mandy humor him with a conversation, but usually it’s just him trying to remind his boyfriend why they were such a great match.  
He starts noticing and learning things.  
There is no pattern to when Mickey works out, which Ian understands just fine because it’s not easy to make yourself do something when your mind is fighting you, and he never does it shirtless. At least not around him. He wears tank tops, which still let him see the new tattoo covering his name. Objectively, it’s a beautiful piece of art, much better executed than what’s hiding underneath. The lines are clean and crisp, the colors saturated. The design took him by surprise, but somehow, it suits Mick. Seeing it the first time hurt, but then he realized that if you look close enough, you can still see the scarring from the previous tattoo. Probably can feel it too, if one is allowed to touch.  
Aidan is the one who one day offers him some leftover Eton mess. It’s done with Mick’s approval though, the dark haired man watches the whole exchange without trying to stop it. It’s food, in any other case it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it is between the two of them. Ian never had Eton mess before. It looks simple enough, strawberries and whipped cream, nothing too fancy. Then he tries it. The crunch takes him by surprise, he didn’t expect meringues to be there. Strawberries are juicy and slightly sour, making the whole thing taste fresh, despite all that whipped cream and sugar. He moans around the spoon, and Mickey smiles at him.  
“I could get so fat on this,” he mumbles, shamelessly licking his bowl clean, trying to get everything in his mouth. Pale hand slides a plate full of perfectly raised meringues towards him, and his eyes bug out when he realizes that, “Holy fuck, you made them from scratch! Mick! You are amazing!”  
Fifteen meringues later Ian regrets that no one stopped him. Well, no, not really. He thinks he should regret it, but he loved every crunchy second of it, and Mickey looks so fond, that he would eat another fifteen just to keep him happy.  
“Um, so I’ve heard Mandy talk with someone about some exhibition? It has something to do with you, Mick?”  
“Uh, yeah, there is one soon,” Mickey blushes. Ian’s seen him embarrassed before, but not like this.  
“Can I come? I don’t have to,” he adds when he sees the older man hesitate.  
“It’s… photography and shit, dunno if you like it.”  
Ian already loves it simply because it’s Mickey-related.  
When the d-day comes, he dresses in the nicest pair of jeans he owns and a dark green button-up, not hiding that he is trying hard to impress his ex boyfriend, who looks absolutely fuckable in black skinny jeans and a burgundy button up with rolled up sleeves. His forearms make Ian’s knees go weak. Aidan wears a whole suit and looks like it’s been designed for him, so Ian immediately hates it. Mandy also seems to be wearing a designer dress, which is really interesting, he will have to ask her about it later.  
Mick disappears the second they cross the gallery’s threshold. Ian tries not to feel intimidated when he sees a crowd of well-dressed, good-looking people, who seem to know exactly what they’re doing here. He is glad when Mandy comments on it, and nudges her lightly to let her know that he feels the same.  
He tries to pay attention to the photos displayed, but he is not prepared for it, when he finally sees Mickey’s face in one of them. It’s just his face and the top of his shoulders. The photographer didn’t use any gimmicks, it’s as raw as it can get, and Ian can see every pale freckle on Mick’s face. It punches the breath out of him. He knows that Mickey is beautiful, he always knew that. And now everyone can see it.  
“He looks amazing,” Aidan says next to him. It’s true, Mickey looks stunning in every single photo. There are many, almost like he was the photographer’s favourite subject. When they move to the next room, they find a big piece taking up half of the wall. He looks at Aidan, who is equally surprised with the way Mick let himself be photographed. His hair is disheveled, eyelashes wet and cheeks stained red. His slightly parted lips are swollen and even redder than usually.  
“I can’t fucking believe he did that.”  
“What? What’s going on?” Mandy asks, and Ian is really happy she doesn’t get it. He can’t wait to see her face when she finally does, so he quickly explains, “That’s his o-face.”  
“Yep,” Aidan confirms, and for a second Ian is distracted by the anger burning in his stomach.  
“What? Gross! What the fuck!” Mandy turns away from the picture, still cursing.  
“Well, maybe not the o-face, but that’s how he looks right after...” Ian clarifies. He knows it doesn’t make anything better, but it’s fun to watch Mandy squirm.  
“I don’t want to hear about it, okay? We’re done, let’s move the fuck on.”  
There are few smaller works of Mickey, and Ian can’t help but wonder what prompted the older man do to it. He was never interested in art, and being photographed takes hours. There are probably hundreds of other pictures that didn’t make the cut, that Mick had to model for.  
When they finally see Mickey again, he is standing next to the photographer, judging from the fact that there is a journalist shoving a microphone into his face, and Ian has some ugly, ugly thoughts about that.  
“Why is a prepubescent boy taking pictures of naked adults?” he asks just to be mean.  
“Nice try, but he is twenty eight, and you know as well as I do, that he is really hot. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s been the one who gave Mickey his latest orgasm, so there is that,” Aidan chuckles next to him. He is right, of course. The photographer has a babyface, but his body looks fit, and he has mesmerizing, brown eyes that almost look black at certain angles. His body language screams confidence, and despite the young age, it seems that he is already successful. The small, beautiful thug looks good next to him, they make a gorgeous couple. Ian can’t believe that he used to be jealous of girls. He was such an idiot, worrying about the wrong gender. It was always men like Aidan and this guy, who were going to steal his Mickey away. Ian used to relish the jealousy Mick displayed when people hit on him, and now it became another item on the already long list of the times he screwed up.  
They don’t get the chance to talk with the photographer, even though both Mandy and Aidan want to. Ian is glad that they don’t, because he would probably do something dumb like punch the guy, and he is not supposed to do that anymore. Especially not to people who haven’t done anything wrong.  
Mickey is learning to be a baker, he has a fucking lawyer for a friend, he is a muse of some pretentious douchebag, and he probably doesn’t need Ian. It hurts so bad, that Ian almost skips a dose in the evening, before he gives himself a mental slap. He can’t punish Mick for trying, can’t use his illness like that. In the end, he would be punishing himself more than anyone else.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, but there is no one else I could ask. Aidan is attending a conference this weekend, and I’ll also be attending it with my boss. I thought I’d be able to stay, but it’s important that I’m there. Luke is in New York. Can you stay with Mickey? Are you working?”  
Ian is supposed to work on Saturday, but he is already emailing Sue to ask for a swap. Mandy sounds distressed, and that’s enough for him.  
“You’re probably busy, fuck, it’s a last minute thing, I know. This is so bad, he can’t stay alone, not now, fucking shit.”  
“Did something happen?”  
“No, not really. It’s just. He gets like that sometimes. I don’t pretend to understand it, but there are days when he looks like he is going to drown himself in a shower. And it’s been like that for the past three days. He barely eats, doesn’t talk, cries at night. It’s so fucking scary, Ian. I never thought I would hear one of my brothers crying every night. I shouldn’t be telling you this, I don’t wanna guilt-trip you into agreeing. But if you can help us, then please do it.”  
“It’s alright Mandy, you know I’d do everything for you. You and Mick both. I’ll be there. Just… prepare him for this, alright?”  
He doesn’t bother with explaining himself to Fiona, because he knows she won’t understand, but will still try to talk him out of it. He doesn’t know when his sister turned into a bitter, old lady in a body of a young, beautiful woman, but he doesn’t want to hear her suggest that he would be better off without Mickey in his life. He tells Lip that he will be spending the weekend at Mick’s, and his brother looks happy for him. It’s only because Ian didn’t tell him the real reason for it, but it occurred to him that maybe there are some things he shouldn’t share without Mickey’s consent.  
When Mandy lets him in, she looks as stressed as he feels.  
“Is he okay with me staying here?”  
“He is not okay with anything at all.”  
“Fuck, I thought he was getting better?”  
“Seriously? What made you think that?”  
“The exhibition, he is doing so much...”  
“We’re basically forcing him to do it. Mostly his therapist and Aidan. He is medicated to the gills, but sometimes I think that it doesn’t help at all. I gotta run now. I made the bed for you, and if you hear him crying, don’t try to calm him down or anything, just pretend you didn’t hear anything. It’s the silence you should worry about.”  
The flat is eerily quiet, with no Mickey in sight. When Ian knocks on the door to his room, he gets a harsh, ‘Fuck off!’ and does just that. No need to aggravate the man further. He finally gets the chance to snoop around to his heart’s content, but it’s not as exciting as he thought it would be. The flats is mostly empty. The only semi-interesting things are bottles of medication, which are in his hands now because Mickey cannot be trusted with pills. Suddenly, their roles are reversed, and Ian is seriously starting to doubt his ability to handle it. How the fuck did Mickey, thug extraordinaire, knew what to do with him when he was a complete mess? Did he really love Ian more, than Ian loves him?  
It’s a depressing thought and the one he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment, so he takes a quick shower. Or at least it’s supposed to be quick, but then he discovers that the pressure here is so much better than at his house, and he spends additional ten minutes enjoying the simple pleasure of water running down his back. He has to switch to cold water when his brain reminds him that Mickey uses this shower every day. Naked.  
Instead of jerking off, he makes himself a sandwich and dicks around on his mostly new laptop, in hope that Mick will come out. He doesn’t, not even when it’s time for the evening pills. Ian carefully chooses the right ones, then prepares his own cocktail. This time, Mickey doesn’t answer when he knocks, so he just enters the room after a moment of hesitation. The older man is lying with his eyes closed, but Ian knows he isn’t sleeping, because his whole body is tense, ready to run.  
“I thought we could take our pills together.”  
“I’m not a child, you don’t have to coddle me, I can take my damn pills alone.”  
“Because you treated me like an adult, right?”  
Mickey’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline, “Really Ian? You’re going to throw that in my face again? You refused to take your medication, I’m taking mine, so you can get the fuck out.”  
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I actually appreciate what you did for me. I was wrong then. Can we please take our pills together? For me?” This time, Mickey gives him a tiny nod. Ian knew he would agree to that.  
Ian hates taking his pills. Not because he is in denial or thinks that he is better off without them, but because they are a constant reminder that there is something wrong with him. There always will. He is unfixable. Mickey is swallowing his meds next to him, and it really makes him feel better. When it was just him, he thought that it was some kind of a punishment, but he refuses to believe that Mick’s depression is anything, but a major fucking inconvenience that his ex doesn’t deserve.  
Ian sneaks another glance at the other man, and sees that he has a hard time swallowing all of his pills at the same time. Which, for some reason, is very amusing to him.  
“You can fit a whole dick down your throat, but you can’t swallow tiny pills?”  
“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey barks out, but there is a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  
“Maybe you should chase them with some cock,” Ian smirks, before he bursts out laughing. He doesn’t really feel it when the other man kicks his thigh, before he joins in. It’s good, it’s nice, he could get used to it again.  
Except it’s not so nice three hours later, when Mickey’s sobbing wakes him up. The fact that it’s loud enough to wake him up from his medication-induced slumber says it all. It’s really fucking bad, and he’s heard Mick cry before (because he made his boyfriend cry), but it’s never been to this extent. It goes on for hours, or at least it feels like this, but when he checks the phone it shows that only 15 minutes passed. He doesn’t understand how Aidan or Mandy can stand it, how can they just lie there, listening to Mickey’s sobbing. He can’t do that.  
He gets up, quietly leaves his room and goes into Mick’s, not bothering with knocking. He is not interested in playing the game of pretend. He slides under the covers and forcibly turns the smaller man, so that Mickey can rest his head on his chest. The fact that he doesn’t struggle is a testament of how dark of a place Mick’s mind must be at the moment. He continues to cry while Ian holds him, but it doesn’t sound as distressed as before, and the redhead thinks that maybe Mandy got it all wrong. Maybe that’s what they should’ve been doing from the very beginning, instead of pretending they can’t hear it. You can’t fix things by ignoring them, he learned it a while ago.  
“It will get better,” he murmurs into the dark hair before kissing it. He knows it’s true, they can make it.  
They wake up nose to nose and wrapped around each other. One of Mickey’s legs is between his, pressing against his hard-on, but Ian is distracted by how serene the older man looks. He stares at the whole galaxy of freckles scattered over Mick’s pale skin and can’t stop himself from gently touching it with his fingertips. It’s barely there, like a kiss from a ghost, but it’s enough to wake Mickey up. Ian knows it’s because of the way he’s been raised, the remnants of old days that will never go away. He can only guess how much of an influence prison had too.  
“You know that what happened at night doesn’t change anything between us, right?” Mick asks, voice still deeper with sleep. Oh, how Ian missed it.  
“I know. I’m not that much of a dick to use it for my own purposes,” Ian assures him. Then he closes the distance between their lips. It’s the softest kiss they ever shared, the most innocent. Ian smiles into it, and Mickey doesn’t exactly reciprocate, but he doesn’t pull away either.  
“I love you so much,” he sighs before getting up to prepare their cocktails.


	4. Chapter 4

Mickey bakes mini black forest cheesecakes which Grégoire puts behind the glass, right next to the cupcakes and muffins. It’s the first time one of his creations is there. And people like it, or at least they buy it. He knows that almost everything sells out at the bakery, because people already know that it’s good, but a voice in his head kept telling him that _his_ cheesecakes won’t sell. Yet they do, and maybe he feels a little bit proud. He makes his first Sachertorte the same day. It’s not something overly complex, but it’s such an iconic dessert that Mickey spends few minutes just staring at it and smiling, because it came out beautifully. He decorates it with dark and white chocolate swirls, then takes it home.  
Ian is already waiting for him with Mandy, they are watching a movie and eating pizza. Mickey steals a slice, finally able to eat something not sweet, and puts the cake in front of them. Then he watches as they fight over it, trying to decide who gets to try it first. It’s oddly satisfying.   
He cuts a piece and gives it to Mandy, who shouts, “In your face, dickbreath! It’s so fucking good, oh my God, Mickey.”  
Ian doesn’t wait for a slice, his long fingers dig into the cake, and he eats it like a savage, smearing chocolate and apricot jam all over his lower lip. He looks happy and healthy, more so than when they were together. It’s everything Mickey’s ever wanted for him. It doesn’t make sense for Ian to want him again, now that he is all messed up.  
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, you need to leave at least one slice.”  
“What? Why?” the redhead whines, mouth full of cake.  
Mickey hears the door opening before he can answer. It’s unlocked, because no one bothers with locking it anymore, and Luke knows about it too well. The photographer makes his grand entrance, and Ian’s face falls. He should’ve warned them, but he simply forgot. It didn’t seem like a big deal.  
“Hi guys!” Luke sounds really fucking cheerful. He sets his camera down and kisses Mickey’s cheek like he always does. They’ve done it many times before, but Mickey suddenly feels self-conscious about it. Mandy and Ian don’t know this new side of him, and he has no idea how they’re going to take it. They will probably think he’s gone soft, and they’ll be right too. Soft body, soft fucking personality.   
“Is that this Austrian thing?” Luke suddenly asks, “Can I have a slice?”  
“Yeah, sure.”  
It gives him something to do, so he carefully cuts a generous slice, avoiding the side ravaged by Ian, and plates it. Luke stops him before he can get a pastry fork – he does have them now, and takes a big bite. He finishes the whole slice in four bites, and they all stare at him in wonder. It’s a bit impressive, a lot disgusting, but Mickey doesn’t have the time to ponder on it because Luke grabs his hand, makes some excuses about having to take pictures while there is still light, and drags him to the bedroom. They take maybe five pictures, before Mickey is naked and riding Luke into the bed. They have to stay quiet, so the older man used his bandanna to gag him, and it’s not something he’s ever considered, but he finds himself liking it. Belatedly, he realizes that he probably shouldn’t be having sex with Ian and Mandy outside, but he is never alone in his own flat. Maybe they won’t realize what’s going on, he knows well that his sister actively avoids thinking about his sex life, just like he doesn’t think about hers.  
They manage to take some more pictures before the second round. This time Mickey is on his back, Luke’s hand wrapped around his throat, lightly squeezing from both sides. It helps him stay quiet, because they ditched the bandanna to be able to kiss, and makes breathing a bit of an effort. His dick twitches, and he could probably come like that, untouched. He is almost there, when the door opens and Ian comes in. He goes from smiling to angry in five seconds flat.  
“I knocked, but you weren’t answering, so I thought that you were too busy taking pictures,” the redhead spits out. “We ordered Chinese, you can join us if you want.”  
He slams the door on the way back, and they just lie there for a few seconds, before Luke starts rocking his hips again. Mickey starts jerking off, wanting to finish as fast as possible. When he comes, it’s a very disappointing orgasm.  
“I’m sorry,” the older man says after they cleaned up. “I sold some great pictures today, and I was all keyed up, I didn’t think...”  
“It’s fine, he doesn’t get to throw a hissy fit that I’m sleeping with you.”  
“Yeah, but I suppose he could do without seeing it.”  
Luke doesn’t stay, but the dinner is still tense. Mandy looks torn between wanting to ask and being afraid to, and in the end she sticks to not saying anything at all. Afterwards, Mickey hides in his room, hoping that for the first time in his life, the redhead will ignore the issue.  
But of course it has to be Ian, who brings him the pills, and stares at him while he swallows them. Mickey looks at the younger man questioningly, since he isn’t taking his pills.  
“I took them few minutes ago.”  
Mickey wonders if it’s some kind of a punishment. It definitely is, showing him that he screwed up and doesn’t deserve the familiarity anymore.  
“Why would you… Did you have to fuck him with me in the next room?”  
“What does it matter?” Mickey shrugs, not looking at the younger man. “We’re not together, we haven’t been together for a long time.”  
“You know I love you!”  
“I know that’s what you say.”  
“You’re not exactly letting me prove it to you. Instead, you let some pretty boy choke you, Jesus, is that what you’re into now?”  
Mickey considers not answering, but he doesn’t want Ian to make any assumptions. Before, they didn’t discuss things, they just fell into them hoping for the best. He is done with pretending.  
“I always liked it.”  
“You never said,” there is a hint of jealous in Ian’s voice, maybe some hurt too.  
“I asked once. With the ben-wa balls. You asked what’s in it for you, so I never tried again. Choking wouldn’t do anything to you either.”  
“I… I was a kid, focused on my own pleasure. I know better now, I want my partners to feel good.”  
“Good for them.”  
“If we used the balls, then the situation would be so much worse. He would have killed you,” Ian tries again, probably not realizing how wrong he is.  
“Dunno if that would have been so bad,” Mickey absentmindedly scratches his left arm, leaving bright red marks. “It would’ve been better than what happened.”  
He can feel Ian staring at him, but he is done with talking, done with the day. He wants to fall asleep. And maybe, if he is lucky, never wake up again.  
He wakes up, of course he does, he’s never been a lucky person. But before that, he dreams about Ian. He used to do that a lot in prison. His dreams never felt so real though, his brain had to rely on memories only, and now he sees Ian almost every day. He knows how the redhead feels, how bright and strong he is. Mickey dreams about his thick cock choking him, dreams about crying when it splits him open so good. Dreams about squirming in Ian’s hold, while the other man destroys him with his tongue, lips and a beautiful, beautiful dick.   
He wakes up hard as a rock, hips already rubbing against the bed. He licks two of his finders and quickly pushes them inside his hole, ignoring the pain. It’s good, that’s his punishment for thinking about Ian this way. He is fast and efficient about getting off, comes in his shorts like he is thirteen again, afraid that hi father might barge in any second.

The judge stares at him for the longest time, before she finally speaks. Aidan told him that he should try to make eye contact, so that’s what he does, even if everything in him screams that he should flip her off.   
“It’s very difficult to trust someone with a record as long as yours, mister Milkovich. I’ve seen boys like you, or so I thought. You surprised me. You managed to hold a job, you are learning a trade, and you haven’t run into any trouble. We will keep the ankle monitor for two more months, and then we will remove it. Well done, Mikhailo.”  
The praise does nothing to him, but knowing that he is going to be free in a few more weeks makes him giddy. He is not going to do anything, he has no plans, but complete freedom seems nice. He never experienced it. His whole life he felt trapped in the Southside by his dad, even when Terry wasn’t there. He can’t wait to be fucking free.  
“I’d blow you so hard right now, if you didn’t have a boyfriend,” he says once they’re in a car again, and Aidan looks conflicted. Mickey knows how to suck dick better than most guys, but he is joking this time. He is not going to ruin his friend’s relationship just because he suddenly feels like sucking cock to celebrate.  
“I’m sure Luke will be open to suggestions, or some random dude if you stare a him with your baby blues.”  
“Ha, fucking ha,” at least he didn’t mention Ian, so Mickey lets it slide. But he has to admit that with the redhead he wouldn’t have to use a condom, and that’s… yeah, he likes to feel the smooth skin, not latex, on his tongue. He even likes to fucking swallow. He can’t get that with Luke. It’s not a big thing, just a preference, but he misses it all the same.   
They get fancy burgers, which they eat outside because while Mickey loves the food, isn’t comfortable sitting in a nice place that requires you to wear a tie. He also doesn’t have a tie on, but he is sure Aidan could get them in.   
He feels fine on the way home, slightly high from the good news. Then they go home, he takes a shower and cries for ten minutes, while he washes his hair. It doesn’t need ten minutes of washing, but he needs to do something with his hands. This is what he hates about his fucking head. One second he is fine, almost happy, then he wants to jump in front of a car for no good reason. He wants to go back to being angry all the time, no one cared about that, he certainly didn’t. It was easier than whatever he is now. Depressed. He used to think it’s bullshit, that it doesn’t exist, just the excuse to be a fucking waste of space. Until it hit him hard, brought him to his knees and made him feel like he will never get up again. There is no fucking reason to get up anymore.   
He stays too long in the shower, long enough for Aidan to barge in, because he doesn’t respect the boundaries, Mandy at least knocks and waits for him to answer. The shower door is frosted, so at least the other man can’t see his red, puffy eyes.  
“We agreed, Mickey, no longer than fifteen minutes.”  
“Fuck you, I deserve a nice shower,” he is proud of how level his voice sounds.  
“Of course you do, should’ve told me, you know I worry.”  
“You are not my fucking dad.”  
“And thank God for that.”  
Later, Mickey asks if he can get the additional sleeping pill on top of his regular meds. Aidan stares at him worriedly, but gives him what he wants anyway. It would be a rough night otherwise. He still wakes up around five, and knows he won’t be able to fall back asleep. Instead of lying in bed and thinking, he works out. His body definitely needs it, and even though he feels like shit, it’s better than listening to his own voice telling him that he is a worthless piece of shit. Most of the time it’s his voice, only a little younger and rougher. Sometimes it’s Terry’s. And sometimes, it’s Ian’s. He hates it the most, because it’s a memory. Not really his, Mandy told him that Ian basically told his boyfriends that he was an abusive asshole. Mickey gets it, he really does, it’s easier to pretend their relationship was completely dysfunctional, makes it easier to move on. But a part of him believes it, thinks he is bad for Ian, always was, always will be. He knows that, if he gives in, the other man will get bored after a while, since he doesn’t provide the thrill anymore. Because of this, sleeping with Ian again shouldn’t be a problem. And yet, when he thinks about the possibility of going through another break up, he feels sick.   
He goes to work expecting his mood to lift, it usually does during the day. This time though, it seems to be getting worse as the day progresses. The customers annoy him more than they usually do, and he can’t stand his co-workers. He almost punches Mike (‘we have the same name, he he’), but he pulls away last minute, reminding himself that he can’t afford to lose this job. By the end of the shift all he wants to do is curl around a bottle of whiskey and drink his thoughts away. So he buys the cheapest whiskey they have, drinks half of it on the way home. No one is in the flat when he finally gets there, and his muddled with alcohol brain seems to think that’s it’s a brilliant opportunity for him. He feels so disconnected from himself, that he doesn’t realize what’s going on until he is lying on a bathroom floor, blood slowly oozing from his body. The buzzing in his brain stops, everything is so quiet, so fucking quiet that he could weep from relief, if only he had the strength to do it. 

Mandy has two bags full of groceries and Mickey, forever the asshole, isn’t opening the door. She doesn’t feel like digging in her bag to find her set of keys, because her bag seemingly grew in size ever since she got a decent job, but of course the door had to be locked this time.   
She manages to find them five minutes later, definitely more annoyed than she was before. She sets the bag on a counter, and loudly complains, “You are so fucking ungrateful, I brought the groceries, because you never buy the good shit, but you can’t even open the fucking door.”  
Mickey doesn’t answer, and she suddenly notices how quiet the flat is. Maybe her brother went out with Luke, he is always supposed to tell one of them, but it might have slipped his mind. She decides to check the rooms anyway. They are empty. She checks the bathroom last, because she doesn’t want to see her brother naked, definitely not. She knocks, then slowly opens the door. And then screams loud enough to inform the whole building that something is wrong.   
There is dried blood on the sink, and Mickey’s motionless body next to the toilet. Her first instinct is to call Ian, but she gives herself a mental slap and calls 911. Then, she kneels and checks if Mickey is breathing. He is, but every breath is so shallow, that she worries the help won’t come fast enough. Mickey’s head is still bleeding, so she takes one of the fluffy, blue towels that she bought for him as a gift, and presses it against the wound. She looks around, trying to find any hints of what might’ve happened. The floor isn’t wet or slippery with something else. There is an almost empty bottle of whiskey, but for some reason she doubts Mick tripped on it.   
When the paramedics come, she is allowed to ride with them. She feels numb on the way to the hospital, because she realized how it happened. She doesn’t need anyone to confirm it for her. Mickey wasn’t feeling well, so he got drunk. He was sad, drunk and alone, so he smashed his own head against the sink. What a fucking prick. Inconsiderate, broken dickhead.  
Someone presses a tissue into her hand, and she doesn’t know what she is supposed to do with it. Then she realizes that she is crying, her carefully applied make-up smearing and running down her cheeks.   
An hour later the doctor tells her that Mickey is going to be okay, his skull isn’t fractured and he has a mild concussion only. He was lucky, due to his inebriation he wasn’t able to use enough strength to do any real damage. Mandy cries again, this time from happiness, but she knows that Mickey is going to be anything, but happy.   
He wants to die. She doesn’t quite get it. All they did their whole life was fight for survival, and now they are finally doing better, but Mickey gave up on life. She wants to understand, she truly does, because maybe she will be able to let him go if he understands.  
Few hours later they are allowed to go home, Mickey is conscious, but he doesn’t say anything. Neither does Mandy, but the silence in the cab doesn’t feel stifling. She holds his hand. The last time they did that she was five and watched Terry beat their mum to a pulp. His hand stays limp, but he doesn’t pull away, so she counts it as a win. She quickly messages Luke and Aidan to come over as soon as possible, then decides that Ian deserves a text as well.   
Mickey goes to his room to sleep, and Mandy wants to drink the rest of the whiskey, but she pours it down the drain instead. She is already sluggish, even without any alcohol in her system. She busies herself with putting away the groceries. Ian arrives first, even though she texted him last. When she gives him the details, her friend bites his fist so hard that he draws blood. There are tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. He quietly opens the door to Mickey’s bedroom and stands there for fifteen minutes, staring at her sleeping brother.  
Maybe he does love Mickey, after all. Not that Mandy knows what love is. She used to think that what Ian and Mickey had was the best it could get, but apparently it wasn’t enough for Ian. The key, she decides, is not to be too in love. Mickey loved too much, and it broke him.   
Luke and Aidan come almost at the same time, and neither of them seems shocked when she tells them about the attempt.  
“I told the doctor that it was a drunken accident, but I don’t need Mick to confirm that he did it on purpose.”  
“Maybe it would be better if we let them keep him for a while,” Aidan says, tiredly. “Every time I think he might be getting better, he has a breakdown of some sorts.”  
“Being there would kill him,” Luke says before muttering, “some birds are not meant to be caged.”  
“Or maybe we should let him go,” Mandy chokes out, and Aidan quickly wraps his arms around her.  
“Don’t say it, don’t you fucking say it,” Ian almost growls. He finally closed the door and joined them.  
“It’s easy for us,” Mandy continues, ignoring her friend. “We all have sweet jobs, we’re doing fine, we don’t have to struggle every day. Sure, some of us are sick, but it’s manageable at this point, isn’t it? And Mickey is at war with his own mind in this lousy little flat and an awful job.”  
She takes a big breath, “I think I like this guy. He is a fucking lawyer, takes me to fancy restaurants, buys me nice gifts, without expecting me to fuck him. I feel so fucking guilty for being happy while Mickey isn’t.”   
“That’s what he wants for you, though. He wants you to be happy,” Luke looks her in the eyes, and she knows he isn’t lying. The thing is, she knows it without him saying it, it’s just doesn’t change anything. “Anyway, are we going to do anything?”  
“I’ll schedule a session with doctor Montgomery in the morning, she will probably want to change his medication. We can’t really do much more. Well… maybe a bit more control? He is going to hate it, but he can’t be alone, not even for an hour,” Aidan looks like Mandy feels – like he needs a strong drink.   
“I can do it,” Ian volunteers. He’s been around a lot, but after that one time, he never stayed to keep an eye on Mickey.   
Her brother doesn’t seem to mind Ian’s presence anymore, but Mandy isn’t sure if the redhead is any good for him. She kind of likes Luke. She knows that what they have is casual, but the photographer took Mickey bowling the other day, then they got steaks. It’s such a simple thing, but Mick finally gets to experience the whole dating thing without any pressure to change. She isn’t sure whether Ian really learned to put other people first, and that’s what her brother needs right now.   
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” she finally says.  
“Why not?”  
“Oh, I don’t know, Ian, maybe because you broke his heart? More than once? He doesn’t need a storm in his life now.”  
“Wow, just tell me what you really think. I fucked up, I know, but how am I supposed to make things better, if you won’t let me?”  
“Why would you? You had a boyfriend, you should have stayed with him, and leave Mick alone.”  
“I love him! Maybe you don’t understand that, but I really love him. I’m in a good place now, and I can take care of him,” Ian’s voice raises before he remembers that Mickey is sleeping. He sneaks a look at Luke and adds, “even if it’s only as a friend.”  
It’s complete bullshit, Ian will never be just a friend to her brother, but it’s a nice try.  
“It’s not like we have a choice,” Aidan speaks up again. It’s true, they don’t. Luke’s job is too unpredictable, and the only other person who could help is Iggy, but Mickey is very adamant about their older brother not seeing him like this. Mandy knows that Iggy wouldn’t say shit, he is not the smartest of the bunch, but Terry didn’t manage to beat the heart out of him.   
They make a new schedule which includes Ian. It means that Mandy will have so much more time for her own life, and it would be a lie if she said she doesn’t feel a bit excited about it. She never expected that taking care of someone depressed would be this exhausting.  
Aidan and Luke leave, and she doesn’t say anything, when Ian stays behind and then slips into Mickey’s room. She knows she can’t stop it, she would have to kill his friend to make him stop.

Waking up is significantly more difficult after the night he had. He keeps his eyes closed for a minute longer, knowing that he won’t be going to work anyway. Aidan has probably already scheduled an appointment for him.  
Now that he is awake, he doesn’t even know why he tried to off himself in such a dumb way. Of course it wouldn’t work, and now everyone is going to walk on the eggshells around him, even more so than before. He is really fucking tired of himself, of being a deadweight.   
The first thing he sees after he finally opens his eyes is actually a person. He thinks he probably should be more surprised, than he is, to see Ian sleeping next to him. But it’s almost expected, Mandy probably called everyone who is, or was, close to him.   
The redhead looks so peaceful, untroubled. Handsome. He is so fucking attractive, that he almost steals Mickey’s breath away. No wonder the younger man left him. Mickey is sure that Ian’s other boyfriends were better looking than him. It’s not really difficult anyway, but they probably were ridiculously hot. He isn’t sure he believes that Ian broke up with his boyfriend.  
He is so deep in thought he doesn’t notice that the other man is staring back at him.  
“Good morning.”  
Mickey’s throat feels awfully dry, so he just nods.  
“I’m not going to preach, because I have no idea what you’re going through. But I want to ask you to let me help you, alright? I’ll be helping Aidan and Mandy from now on, so just… Call me, if you ever feel like hurting yourself again.”  
“But will you answer?” he asks, thinking about all those times Ian ignored him.  
“I will,” the redhead says with conviction. “I can’t do it at work, but I promise you that I’ll always call you back.”  
Mickey is not going to make any promises, he can’t. It’s hard to think straight when he is feeling down, hard to pick up a phone and call for help. He is too proud to do it, and maybe he doesn’t trust Ian not to use it against him one day.   
“Mandy told me that Monica is dead,” he decides to say, because he needs to know if Ian really is doing fine. He doesn’t offer the condolences because, frankly speaking, Monica should have died long time ago. Ian wasn’t her, but she tried damn hard to make him like her.  
“Yeah. It was... I don’t know, weird. Made me sad, but at the same time, not really. She was my mom, and I thought she understood me because she was bipolar too… I almost got a tattoo for her, on my chest, like you did. I was standing in front of a tattoo studio, ready to go in, and I thought about you. You were the one who treated me the best, so why would I want her name on my skin? So I didn’t do it.”  
“Smart choice.”  
“Regretting you weren’t smarter, huh?” Ian says almost jokingly, but there is a hint of regret in his voice.  
“Yeah. It’s a dumb fucking thing to do. Even if you loved me, tattooing someone’s name is a fucking risk, there is so much shit that can go wrong. Just look at us.”  
For a second, Ian looks like he might cry. Instead, he moves closer and kisses Mickey, sucks on his bottom lip before he pulls away, not waiting for him tor reciprocate. He wouldn’t.  
“You are here, and I still miss you. I’m sorry. I love you.”  
“Stop fucking saying it.”  
“Fuck you, I won’t. What do you want for breakfast?”  
“Huh? What?”  
“Breakfast? Pancakes? I think pancakes,” the redhead nods to himself and jumps out of the bed, seemingly unbothered by the prominent erection tenting his shorts. Few seconds later Mickey hears him enter the bathroom and tries not to think about Ian jerking off.  
The pancakes are perfect and fluffy, but Mickey almost throws up after few bites. He isn’t hungry, probably because his head hurts like a motherfucker. Mandy pretends to be cheerful, but he can feel her watching him covertly. If he could turn back time, he wouldn’t have fucking done it.  
That’s exactly what he tells Montgomery, and she stares at him for too long before she writes something down, and suggest a hospital.   
Mickey is not going to a hospital, no way in hell. It’s like being in prison, but people around you are even more crazy. It isn’t fair, he knows, Ian’s been there after all. But Ian doesn’t know what’s prison like, he couldn’t compare those two things. Mickey knows. He hated every second he spent locked up, and he is not repeating that again. It’s scary when you spend most of your time in a tiny room, which you cannot leave without a permit. It made him sick, made him count days, hours, minutes. Made his skin crawl.   
Montgomery asks, if he is going to tell Grégoire, and he asks her to do it. She probably shouldn’t, but Mickey knows that she won’t refuse, because he just tried to kill himself, and she feels sorry for him. He wants Grégoire to know, wants the older man to finally realize how messed up he is. Mickey shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen of a fucking bakery, any kitchen at all.  
He gets some new pills, a different dose of the ones he already has, Luke picks him up, they take some pictures and pretend that everything is fine. Fucking peachy.  
He wishes he knew what he wants.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that's a wrap.

Grégoire doesn’t kick him out. Mickey doesn’t know how the older man’s business doesn’t tank, if he trusts lowlifes like him. But he is not going to complain, because he doesn’t know what he would do without baking. It’s the only thing he is genuinely good at. But, more importantly, it gives him a purpose.  
His dad would be so proud. Fuck his dad.  
And fuck Ian too because one day Mickey comes home to a brand new, unopened, unused KitchenAid Artisan. At this point everyone seems to have keys to his flat, he doesn’t even question it anymore. He stares at the mixer proudly standing in the middle of his living room.   
“Open it,” Ian says, grinning like an idiot. Mickey glares at him, but still opens the mixer and takes it out. It’s heavy, but he knew that already, Grégoire has five. It’s also matte red and absolutely beautiful. He wouldn’t say he dreamed about one, because he doesn’t let himself dream about things he can’t afford. But it’s in his hands now, his own Artisan, apparently.  
“I don’t want it.”  
“What? But I googled… I thought every baker wants one?”  
“I don’t need your charity, return it,” he puts the mixer away, already missing the way it felt in his hands.   
“I’m not returning it, I can see that you like it, so you’re keeping it. It’s not charity, I love your baking, I love you, and I want you to have it. I’ve never done anything for you, so at least let me give you that.”  
It’s unfair, Mickey thinks, unfair that Ian uses their past like that, to get what he wants. Mickey could deny it, he could tell Ian that what they had made him feel like there is something worth living for. He won’t say that, though, not over a fucking home appliance.   
“You can’t buy me,” he grumbles instead, but Ian’s smile doesn’t waver.  
“I’m not trying to buy you. I want you to be happy,” he sits next to the older man, and tries to check the Artisan himself. Mickey elbows him in the ribs and shouts, “You’re going to break it!”  
“I can set a bone, but I’ll break a mixer? I doubt it,” the redhead snorts. “By the way, I got you some attachments too. Why is this so fucking expensive?”  
“Cuz it’s great, now shut the fuck up.”  
Surprisingly, Ian does shut up, and they sit in companionable silence, admiring the red beauty. Or at least that’s what Mickey is doing. The other man seems to be looking at him, and it’s not as uncomfortable as it should be. After a while, he decides to move a little closer, and their arms and thighs touch. It’s a ‘thank you’, and he hopes that Ian gets it. He can’t deny that it’s nice to just sit there without talking. He knows that Ian thinks there are things they need to sort out, but for now, Mickey is content with silence.   
He is already thinking about the things he is going to bake. It will be amazing, he will be able to get up in the middle of a night and bake whatever he wants. He could do that before, but it was far less convenient. But now, he wants to make bread. He nudges Ian, and asks, “You wanna bake bread with me?”  
“Bread?” the redhead asks with delight, like Mickey just offered him something precious.  
“Yes, fucking bread.”  
“I’d love to bake bread with you!”  
It turns out that Ian can’t bake for shit and is incapable of following the simplest instructions, so he mostly makes appreciative noises when Mickey does something right. Instead of being annoying, it’s fun. Apparently, they can have fun together without fucking, and it never really crossed his mind before. But back then he also thought that he could never have friends – now he has Luke and Aidan, more than he could hope for. Which is funny, considering he isn’t happy. He should want to be happy, probably, but he is mostly empty. It’s still better than the alternative.  
The bread comes out okay, and Ian takes it home with him, carrying it like a really small baby. It reminds Mickey of when the younger man would take care of Yevgeny, when the boy was still so small. It’s yet another thing he doesn’t want to think about.  
Ian takes him out a lot. Not on dates like Luke, not even to the clubs that Mickey despises, but Ian loves. Sometimes, they find themselves in a park, watching kids play, talking about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes, they go window shopping, and the redhead doesn’t make fun of him when he gets excited about ovens and pans. Sometimes, they go to a coffee shop. He isn’t big on those, but they find a small, unassuming place without hipsters or teenagers, that serves beautifully roasted coffee, and Mickey is fine with that.   
They both have a routine now, and they’re both doing better. At least Montgomery says that she sees a change in him. He thinks it’s a temporary thing, because he can always feel _the thing_ creeping up on him, that makes him desperate for death. But he is going to enjoy what he has, as long as he can. He is going to enjoy Ian, before someone prettier, newer catches his attention or something bad happens. It’s better, he decides. Better to just let things go, better to be prepared for Ian to leave, he can’t hold on to someone so bright and beautiful, can’t expect him to stay.   
Two months after the attempt, he stares at the Artisan which is currently beating the eggs, and promises himself that he is not going to try again. It’s pointless, for one. It’s obvious he can’t get it right, so trying makes no sense. But it’s mostly because the medication makes him numb enough to survive. He doesn’t feel good, but he doesn’t feel that bad either, so for the sake of people who apparently care, he is going to stay alive. He will do it, until they get tired of him.   
“Why do you think they are going to leave? Aidan, for example, seems to be very fond of you,” Montgomery asks during one of their sessions.  
“Everyone always leaves, why would he be any different?”  
“I thought you trusted him?”  
Mickey shakes his head, because she doesn’t get it at all, “I will drive him away. Him and Luke, that’s what I always do.”  
Montgomery looks like she wants to say something, but changes her mind. She probably realized, that whatever comforting bullshit she wanted to say won’t cut it this time. Good, she is learning.  
When he leaves her office, it suddenly hits him how cold it is. When the wind blows, it feels like tiny needles are biting into his skin. He needs a winter coat. How could he miss the seasons changing?  
He gets a nice coat, one he would never be able to afford a year or two ago. It’s really warm, and it should last him at least two years, if not more. It’s so warm, that he has to keep it unzipped when he goes for a walk with Luke and his dog in the evening. The dog isn’t exactly Luke’s, the photographer’s schedule is too hectic, so he can’t commit to owning a pup, but he has a neighbor who doesn’t mind letting him walk her dog. It’s an Alaskan malamute that’s almost as tall as Mickey, when it stands on its hind legs. Its name is Donut, of all things, and it’s a little on a dumb side, but it makes him adorable rather than annoying. Mickey doesn’t like dumb people, but he doesn’t mind it, when it’s animals. He can admit that playing with Donut is fun, and he doesn’t even notice, when Luke starts taking pictures. To be honest, he is no longer aware of the camera most of the time, he can even ignore the clicking sound, which annoyed him at first, but Luke refused to turn it off.  
Donut is big and overly enthusiastic, and Mickey hates to admit that the dog can overpower him, but he finds himself pinned to the ground by a happy ball of fur, receiving dog kisses all over his face. He laughs breathlessly, not too mad about the situation, even if his new coat is getting a bit dirty. When Donut finally gets bored and moves away to sniff a plastic bottle, Mickey stays on the ground.  
“Are we a good couple?” he asks Luke. “I mean, we are not a real couple, but you know.”  
“Yeah. I think we are great friends, who have great time together and have even better sex. We’re good for each other, but like you said, we’re not a couple. But I love you.”  
“Yeah, I love you too,” the words just fly out from his mouth, and he doesn’t even have to think about it. It’s true, he does love Luke, and they’ve been so open about everything so far, that it makes no sense to be awkward about it.  
The photographer beams at him and lowers himself to sit on Mickey’s hips.  
“Do you think we should stop having sex?”  
Luke doesn’t even hesitate, before he nods, “I think it’s for the best.”  
They stay like this for a while. The ground is cold against Mickey’s back, but moving is too much effort.  
“Are you going to give Ian a chance?”  
“He is trying so hard, and I’m really fucking weak when it comes to him,” he tries to cover his eyes with a hand, but Luke catches it and pulls away.   
“You are the strongest motherfucker I know, and if he hurts you again, then no one is going to find his body, that’s for fucking sure. But maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea. Maybe he can help, make you happier.”  
“I can’t depend on someone else for my happiness,” Mickey parrots, what Montgomery once told him.  
“True, but some help won’t hurt, right?”  
The problem is, it might. With Ian, it might. But it really feels like he doesn’t stand a chance against the redhead and his determination.  
He doesn’t tell Ian that he is no longer sleeping with Luke, but the photographer tells Mandy, who lets it slip out around Ian, and then everyone knows.

***

Ian knows that they are not a couple, but they spend so much time together, that it makes him hopeful. Mickey didn’t make a move on him yet, but he seems receptive when Ian touches his leg or puts an arm around his shoulders. They are going slow, it’s fine. Ian feels like he rushed into every relationship he’s been in, and he knows better now.  
Aidan’s birthday is approaching, and they are supposed to go to some fancy club, so they go shopping. For most people, it’s something normal, something they hardly think about. Ian wants to burst from happiness, when Mickey goes with him from shop to shop, complaining about the prices, yet still picking out clothes. Every time, Ian pushes him towards the skinny jeans, so they end up with three pairs of sinfully tight pants that hug Mick’s ass and thighs perfectly, and the best part is that the older man is completely oblivious to how sexy he looks in them.  
They are almost done, when he spots a Starbucks and offers to buy them coffee, because he knows Mickey never tried it before. It’s nothing special, but it’s the experience everyone should have. He doesn’t know why, but it feels important, introducing normal things to the other man. Ian tells him to wait outside, he doesn’t want to risk a confrontation with any hipsters. They would probably find Mick appealing, a novelty of sorts. That’s not who the other man is.  
He gets a latte macchiato and a frappuccino, since the older man still has a sweet tooth. He is smiling as he leaves the store, but the smile quickly slips off his face, when he sees Mickey talking to someone. He doesn’t mind Mickey making friends with people – as long as he doesn’t sleep with them, but he doesn’t want him to talk to _Trevor_ of all people.  
“I’m just saying, he is not good for you. He wasn’t there for you, was he? And the things he told me about you...” he catches Trevor say. “He is a fuckboy, you can do so much better.”  
“Fuck off, and don’t talk about Ian like that. You don’t know shit about me, him or us, so back off before I make you.”  
Ian feels a shiver run down his spine, protective Mick always turned him on. He decides to interrupt their conversation, “Go away, Trevor, if you have something to say to me, then give me a call.”  
“I wanted to warn him, I’m not interested in you anymore.”  
Trevor walks away, and Mickey doesn’t comment on the encounter. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, so Ian lets it slide, he doesn’t really want to know what else might have been said.  
Hours later, his phone buzzes with a text message. It’s from Trevor and for a second, he considers not reading it. But he is too curious to delete it without reading, which he regrets right after opening it, like he knew he would.  
‘Mickey isn’t as bad as you made him look. In fact, I think he is pretty good. Hot too. I hope he comes to his senses.’  
‘Stay away from him,’ he replies, then he blocks Trevor’s number. Fuck him, fuck him for making a move on Ian’s man, or at least talking about it. As if Mickey would ever be interested in a twig of a guy like that. Trevor wouldn’t know what to do with him.  
Ian knows it would never happen, if only because Mickey wouldn’t do it to him, no matter how bad their relationship was. But he still can’t sleep, and even though it’s not his turn to stay with Mick, he texts him to ask, if he can come over, stay the night. He is on his way even before he receives a reply, but it’s positive, like he knew it would be. Mandy doesn’t say anything, but her eyebrows, almost as expressive as Mick’s, tell him everything he needs to know. He takes a quick shower and then curls around the older man. It’s not something they do anymore, but Ian needs it. Mickey stiffens in his arms, but slowly, he relaxes as he falls asleep.  
Ian doesn’t want to sleep just yet. He smells the nape of the older man’s neck, there is something about Mick’s scent that drives him crazy, it’s intoxicating. He wants, dear God does he want…  
Meeting Trevor made him feel unsteady, made him realize that there are other men out there. Sure, Aidan and Luke slept with Mickey, but he knew they didn’t love the other man the way he does. He was jealous at first, of course he was, but they weren’t a real threat to him. Other men are, so many good looking guys, who wouldn’t hesitate to seduce Mick. And this new Mickey would probably let them, still trying to distance himself from Ian at any cost.  
Ian won’t let him. Never again. They are done with running in different directions.

Mickey wakes up with a gasp, confused and slightly panicked, even before he is properly awake. Ian isn’t next to him anymore, but there are strong hands on his hips keeping him in place. He is lying on his stomach, naked from the waist down, and Ian is between his legs, face pressed into his ass, _licking_ into him. Doing it without waking him up wouldn’t be possible few months back, but his pills make his sleep very deep most of the time.  
“Oh...” he moans when a wet, warm tongue slides into him as deep as it will go, he can feel Ian’s teeth at the rim, and he almost wishes the younger man pressed a little harder. “Stop, we can’t...”  
He doesn’t want to stop, but he still isn’t sure if his heart knows exactly what is good for him.  
“I just want to make you feel good, Mick, let me pleasure you.”  
And Mickey is weak, so very weak that he spreads his legs to give Ian more room. Ian makes him feel alive, his whole body is already burning, even though his cock isn’t fully hard yet. He missed the feeling of Ian’s hands and lips on him so much, that he moans at the slightest of touches. Ian isn’t aggressive or insistent, but he licks Mickey with confidence and reverence the older man doesn’t remember from before. He pushes his forehead into a pillow, while his hands wander down, towards his cock. Ian slaps them away, murmuring ‘no!’, before he flattens his tongue, licks all the way from the scrotum to his hole, and sucks on it like a man starved.   
Mickey groans, thighs trembling from pleasure as the insistent tongue slowly circles his rim before plunging inside again. The stretch isn’t enough, he needs more, it doesn’t even reach the sweet spot in him. Ian knows that, of course he does, and after few more gentle licks he pushes two fingers alongside the tongue. At first, he doesn’t go in too deep, teasingly the stretched rim the way that always made Mickey shiver, he always loved having his ass played with.  
Finally, Ian pushes do the last knuckle, and Mickey whines when skillful fingers first brush, then press against his prostate. He squirms and tries to rub his swollen dick against the bed, but the younger man is still holding him with one hand, definitely leaving some bruises behind. It’s so fucking hot Mickey’s cock is wet with precome, balls full and almost ready to burst.  
“Touch me, Ian...”  
“No, you are going to come like this.”  
He can feel Ian’s grin, then there is one last, long lick before the redhead pulls away. He adds two more fingers, and Mickey finally feels full, it’s almost as good as a thick cock. He is surprised, when Ian puts a hand on the back of his head and pushes him into the pillow. Then, Ian starts to fingerfuck him, there is no finesse to it, just straight-up fucking, that almost feels like abuse with how rough it is.  
Mickey moans and swears, sweat sliding down his temples and soaking into a pillow, which hopefully muffles the indecent sounds he makes. He needs to come, he needs to get fucked, he needs a thick, long dick destroying him. Ian twists his fingers and plunges as deep as he can, Mickey can feel his thumb pressing against his rim, just one more and Ian would be…  
He comes with a shout, it almost hurts with how good it is, cum hitting his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut and pants like a dog in heat, heart racing so fast he thinks he might die. It would be a sweet, sweet death.   
His body goes completely lax, the only thing holding him up is Ian’s hand still in his ass. The younger man slowly pulls out and stands up.  
“Where are you going?” Mickey doesn’t recognize his voice, it’s so raw.  
“I’ll take care of my, uh, you know.”  
“Do it here, c’mon, come on my ass.”  
Ian growls in approval, quickly takes his dick out and starts jerking it. He doesn’t tease himself, it’s all about reaching orgasm as fast as he can. Mickey’s stretched hole is red and puffy, and the sight of it pushes the other man over the edge.  
“You have no idea how much I want to fuck your ass now, it’s so fucking loose, ready for my cock. I would fuck you so hard you’d feel me for a week, missed you so much, missed your perfect ass. Fuck, you’re the best, the only one.”  
Mickey whimpers, because he knows that’s what Ian likes and few seconds later warm, sticky release coats his ass, sliding between his buttocks and over his sore hole.   
He has no fucking idea what just happened. Or maybe he just doesn’t know, why he isn’t panicking, why it feels right. After all this time, it still feels right. He wants to be angry or even anxious, but he is almost happy instead.  
“Are you freaking out?” Ian quietly asks, and the answer is an obvious ‘no’. He should be freaking out, but he isn’t. It scares him, it shouldn’t be so easy, he’s been repeatedly told that forgiving is the hard part, but it turns out to be a big, fat lie.  
“Trevor thinks you are cute,” Ian suddenly speaks up again. “He texted me, and I wanted to go to his flat and beat him up. I know that other guys find you attractive, they always did, but I can’t live like that anymore, Mick. I love you too much, and I don’t want to give you an ultimatum or make any demands, but I have to know if there is a point in me pining after you.”  
“If I say there isn’t… will you leave?”  
“No, of course not. But I will try to move on. Not sure, if it’s possible, but I will try, because I still want you in my life.”  
He isn’t lying, Mickey can tell. He also knows that they will never be just friends, but he is not going to argue with Ian. Instead, he is going to stop tormenting them both. It might not work, his brain is telling him that it will definitely not work, but maybe he is a glutton for punishment. Or maybe he is just tired of resisting something inevitable. If they crush and burn again… He will deal with it, like he dealt with it before. Or better, because he has friends now, he has Montgomery.  
“Yes.”  
“’Yes’ what?”  
“We can try again. Be together again.”  
“Just like that?” Ian asks incredulously, as if he can’t believe his luck.   
“What? Do you want me to ask you to do something for me? Be my slave?”  
“Well, not exactly.”  
“Then shut the fuck up and accept it for what it is,” Mickey grunts, pretending to be annoyed. 

Mickey isn’t going to lie to himself. He feels elevated now that Ian is his again. Or maybe, more likely, that he is Ian’s. He doesn’t want to serve his heart on a silver platter, but it’s so easy to just fall into Ian. He tries to be cautious, Mandy and Aidan tell him to be careful, but the redhead is so good with words, so good at acting like a perfect boyfriend, that it’s almost easy to forget how much it hurt to be abandoned. He still dreams about it. He sleeps in Ian’s arms and dreams about the desert, wakes up with his face wet.   
He is surprised that Mandy isn’t over the moon about it. He expected her to be happy, she always thought so highly of Ian, and they still seemed to be quite close. But Mickey doesn’t know much about their dynamics. Maybe, for once, his sister sided with him.  
Luke is the only one who shows enthusiasm, but that’s because they discussed it before. Montgomery seems slightly suspicious, but she doesn’t try to talk him out of it. She tells him that he might be ready for a relationship, that is if Ian really changed. And Mickey can’t really know that, but...   
“Remember when I told you, that you don’t know me? Later I realized that it was me who didn’t know shit. I wanted an easy fix, and since I couldn’t get it, I was frustrated and took it out on you,” Ian tells him one day, his face pressed against Mickey’s stomach, probably to avoid looking him in the eye.  
“No man, I get it. I treated you like a baby, now that I’m… like this… I kind of like it when you take care of me,” Mickey admits with a blush staining his pale cheeks, “but that’s just me, and I can understand why you didn’t want it.”  
“No, absolutely not! We need to be equals, but I want you to take care of me again. No one else has done as much as you did, and this time round I’ll appreciate it, if you give me a proper chance,” this time Ian looks at the older man a little coyly, eyes partially hidden by his long lashes. “I hope to marry you one day, when you start trusting me again.”  
It’s a huge promise. One that Ian has never made before, one about something he mocked, right before he broke up with Mickey. Back then, he would have married the younger man without any hesitation. He can’t imagine doing it now, but instead of sharing his thoughts, he says, “I saw the ocean. It hurt my eyes.”  
Ian stares at him, lips slowly parting to say something, but Mickey beats him to it, he isn’t done yet.  
“I saw the fucking ocean, and it meant nothing to me because you weren’t there. I wanted it to be enough, I tried so fucking hard to be happy. But it was meaningless, because you weren’t there. So if you leave again… No, I’m not going to threaten you, but you have to know that there is no going back, if you leave me again.”  
“Never again. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I thought I needed to leave you to be able to grow up, but I realized that I could have done it with you by my side, you know?”  
Mickey shrugs, because he isn’t so sure about it. He also doesn’t know, if he would do anything with his own life if Ian have stayed with him. As much as it pains him, he has to admit that there are some good sides to what happened. But it hurt so much, stripped him of his dignity, that he can’t decide whether it was right or wrong. What matters is their current situation, he supposes, not their past. Ian’s quiet voice pulls him out of his thoughts.  
“I want you to fuck me, Mick.”  
“What?” Mickey isn’t sure he’s heard it right. Ian doesn’t like being fucked, he is a top through and through, which has never being a problem, since Mickey appreciates a long, thick dick up his ass. “Why?”  
“With Trevor, I… he made me bottom because he dislikes being fucked.”  
“He forced you?” Mickey asks through clenched teeth, anger already bubbling under his skin.  
“No, not really. He just made me think it’s what I have to do. It doesn’t matter anymore, but… I didn’t really enjoy it. I pretended to like it, because I felt like I had to do it at the time, but I don’t want him to be the last man who has ever fucked me. I know you can make me feel good, baby.”  
Mickey knows how to fuck guys. He’s fucked tons of guys before. But suddenly, he is worried that he can’t fulfill Ian’s wishes. They’ve done this once before, and Ian seemed to enjoy himself. Maybe not as much as he would fucking Mickey, but he voiced no complaints. Their conversation took a wild turn, but he gets it, he understands why Ian decided to say it now.  
They go slow, it’s probably the slowest they’ve ever done it. At one point, Ian tries to rush him, saying that he can take it, but Mickey knows better. Sweet and slow is how is has to be done for his boyfriend to enjoy it. He tries not to think about the other guy, Trevor, doing it to Ian. He is jealous, there is no denying it; but it mostly makes him angry, and it’s not something he needs, while he is trying to make his man enjoy being fucked.  
And Ian does genuinely enjoy it, Mickey can read his body language well, that’s something he was always sure of.  
“I knew you could make me love it,” the redhead says afterwards. His legs are still slightly spread, his own cum cooling on his flat stomach. He is as beautiful as he as before, if not more. He obviously went through a lot while Mickey was gone, and he is a slightly different person now. But Mickey is looking forward to befriending this older, more mature Ian. He already loves him, that’s not a problem. It’s a good start.

“I kind of miss the old days, when I wouldn’t overthink things, you know? I could enjoy Ian’s presence without questioning it, without worrying about him leaving. Growing up sucks, in theory everything is great, not sure if Greg told you, but he is hiring me full time, since I’m good enough not to embarrass him, I have more friends than ever, and Ian sleeps next to me almost every night. And I’m happy about all that, I really fucking am. But at the same time, I get sad for no fucking reason, and deep down I’m waiting for everything to go to shit, you know?” Montgomery nods, but Mickey barely notices her. “It’s better than whatever people have in the Southside, but… I don’t know, I guess I expected a happy fucking ending without any worries. I’m trying. I forgave Ian, but trusting him is hard. I’m sure he can see it, even though I want things to be normal between us. Mandy is happy. Aidan and Luke are happy. Everything is great. And I still can’t fucking relax.”  
“What about your son?”  
“Yev?” Mickey sounds surprised. “Aidan said that he can easily force Lana to let me see him, he could even have her deported. She can be a mean bitch, but I don’t really want to do that to her, Chicago is shit, but Russia doesn’t seem any better, you know? I’m not sure if I want to see Yev,” he finally admits. “He probably doesn’t remember me anymore, and… I tried to be a dad back then, right? But it was never my choice, and maybe I loved… love him, but are we good for each other? You keep telling me that I have to think about myself first, and when I look at him, I think about everything that happened. I realized that Svetlana had a choice, she didn’t have to keep him, right? It’s not like Terry would be able to tell, if she got pregnant or not after that one time, she did it for a green card. That was her choice. I’m not even sure he is mine, he might be Terry’s.”  
“What about Ian? What does he think?”  
“Surprisingly, he didn’t mention it yet. He chilled a bit with telling me what I should do, what he wants me to do. Maybe in the future he will have something to say about it, but for now we are cool. I never wanted to be a dad, okay? So Yev is probably better off without me.”  
Mickey stops talking for a moment to stare out of a window, and Montgomery patiently waits for him to continue.  
“I feel better with Ian next to me, but realistically, I know he can’t be responsible for my happiness. It could lead to some fucked up shit again. It’s going to be tough, and it scares me a bit. He is in a really good place, and I don’t want to ruin it. But I also don’t want to get hurt again, I hope we will be able to do it this time, but yeah… It’s going to be tough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell me you expected a different ending from me.


End file.
